


Give Me Love

by fmljustlex



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Physical Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Recovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-06-07 21:55:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 74,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15228711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmljustlex/pseuds/fmljustlex
Summary: When his dad finally comes in he straightens, leaning forward as Bill sits in the armchair next to him. “Is everything okay?”“Yeah, son, listen.” His dad’s using his officer voice, and it makes Alex straighten further. “I think it’s best if Justin stays here for a couple of weeks.”“A couple weeks?” Alex’s brows raise. “Why, what happened?”“I’m not entirely sure myself. But I’m worried things aren’t—they’re not safe for Justin at home. Have you ever gotten that feeling?”-^-Please read the warnings in tags. Based on a request. As always, cross-posted on Tumblr :)This is an ‘Everyone Alive AU’ where basically none of the show has happened. I apologise in advance for the most likely slow updates!!!





	1. Give a Little Time to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Chaptered fic!!! I don’t really have it completely planned out. Or at all. I’m mostly just winging it, so, I’m hoping it doesn’t flop and we’ll see where it goes. It’s an all out AU, where basically none of the show ever happened and everyone is alive, which will become more noticeable next chapter. There’s going to be like no update schedule, and I’m going to apologise now for the fact that they’ll most likely usually be slow. Please comment and tell me what you think!!

_Please don’t make any sudden moves, you don’t know the half of the abuse_

~^~

Bill isn’t used to getting calls for this end of the town He expects it’s because anyone in the vicinity is scared for themselves at the sight of a cop car. They’re happy to mind their own business and turn a blind eye to everyone else’s He’s aware of the crime that goes on here, everyone is; it’s simply that designated neighbourhood that the rest of the town avoids. If he wanted to enforce the law here, he’s sure he’d have a reason for arrest for the majority of residents. 

He’s never gotten a call from the area before, in all of his time as Sheriff. It’s the reason, he thinks, that he decides to respond personally. He hates to admit that the call frightens him. A call from a neighbour about some shouting shouldn’t be worrying him the way it is. 

He drives into the neighbourhood slowly, eyes peeled for the house in question. He drives past a man storming down the street and glances in the mirror, though he doesn’t stop. He keeps going until he finds the house. That’s the only reason he’s here. To appease whatever neighbour made the anonymous call, and himself. He’s sure it’s going to be nothing other than wasted diesel, but it’s his job. 

He finds the house and his brow furrows at the sight of the open front door. The car slows to a stop and he shuts off the engine. He heaves a sigh and gets out. 

The two stone steps are worn and crumbly, bits chipped off, and they’re littered with broken glass. Bill carefully avoids it and raps on the door, calls a, “Hello? Sheriff Standall.” There’s no answer, so Bill takes a hesitant step inside. He can hear quiet noises coming from somewhere in the house and walks towards it, realising they’re sobs. 

He makes it to what appears to be a kitchen, where a man is sat on the floor against the wall, legs pulled to his chest. Not a man, he realises, a boy. A boy he recognises. “Justin?”

Justin Foley slowly lifts his head, teary eyes finding Bill and showing the bleeding gash on his cheek. “Please don’t tell Alex.”

~^~

Bill finds that, miraculously, they have a first aid kit. He regrets voicing his surprise when Justin just dully tells him he was the one to purchase it and hide it there. “I play sports, so.” It’s when Bill reaches a hand out to clean the cut and the boy violently flinches away that he becomes most concerned.

Justin notices. “I-I can do it,” he mumbles.

“Son,” Bill starts, “I should be taking you to the hospital for stitches, you can’t--”

“I don’t need the hospital,” Justin says quickly. “I’ve got it.”

The boy’s panicked, and Bill doesn’t want to make it worse. He knows better than to push, so he hands over the box silently and watches Justin take it with a sigh of relief. “Is there anyone else here?” Justin shakes his head. “Your mom? Where’s she?”

Justin drops his gaze and shrugs. Bill knows minimal information about Justin’s home life. The kid’s friends with his son, he knows. He’s had him over at the house, working on projects together, and Bill wonders now just how many of those were real. He’s questioned him on various cuts and bruises, all brushed off as, “Oh, uhm, just a sports injury.” Alex had never flinched at the explanation, so Bill had kept his doubts quiet. Surely if it was something serious, Alex would tell him. 

He realises now that he didn’t say anything because he didn’t know.

“Can you tell me what happened, Justin?”

The boy’s eyes flicked up to him, then away, flitting around the room. Looking everywhere but his face. “It-it’s not--it was an accident, there’s nothing--”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Bill soothes. “You don’t have to tell me, alright? But it’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

“Well, I’m fine. You-you can go.”

He certainly cannot go. Justin might not be able to tell him, but he already has a pretty good idea of what’s going on here. He saw the mess of bags and bottles, sees them here, the broken shards only about a foot away. Even without the cut, he could legally say this is an unsafe environment for Justin. 

Bill doesn’t move from the kitchen chair, but Justin pushes himself to his feet, trying and failing to hide a wince. “I should clean this up,” he says, in another clear invitation for the man to leave.

He doesn’t take it. “You don’t have to clean anything up, Justin.”

“No, I, he’ll be mad, I have to,” he crouches down and begins picking up the broken pieces. Bill stands quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder and immediately realising his mistake.

Justin flinches again and lets out a cry of pain as the glass slices his palm. He curses, letting the bloody shard fall and cradling his hand. Bill goes to reach out to him and thinks better of it, beckoning instead. “Come here, Justin, sit down.”

Justin does so, still holding his hand protectively to his chest. Bill takes the seat next to him. He holds a hand out in offering. “Can I see?” Justin reaches out his hand hesitantly and Bill takes it, keeping his hold loose, letting Justin know he can pull away if he wants to. It doesn’t look as bad as the gash on his cheek, but it still makes him wince at the sight of it. He doesn’t suspect the glass was very clean, either, which is the most worrying. “These are gonna be hard to clean by yourself.”

He waits patiently, knowing Justin hears the underlying question. It takes a minute, but he nods, and Bill reaches for the first aid box. 

He cleans them carefully, glad to realise they don’t really look like they require stitches when he gets a good look at them. He wraps Justin’s hand and sticks a bandage over his cheek. He keeps his touches light and gentle, but Justin doesn’t move. He sits rigid in the chair, every muscle tense, keeping his body completely still. He hasn’t said a word, and Bill doesn’t push him. 

“Mom wasn’t here,” he says suddenly. His voice is quiet. Bill doesn’t want to say anything that will make him stop, so he doesn’t speak. “When I got home. I just needed a little money. All the-the food was out of date and I was just going to buy something for dinner and I didn’t think he would come back.”

Bill just nods and decides to chance asking. “Who came back?”

Justin ducks his head again. “My mom’s boyfriend. I--it was his cash, but I was only taking a twenty and--”

“You don’t have to explain to me, Justin. You’re not in the wrong here. Okay?”

Justin doesn’t respond, but Bill didn’t really expect him to. He’s surprised Justin answered him the first time, even though he’s not surprised at the answer. He guessed it was something like that, and with Justin’s confirmation it’s easy to piece the rest together. His mind flashes back to the man he passed. 

He needs Justin out of here, refuses to leave him in this house, waiting in fear. He doesn’t know what exactly he can do for him, but thinks he at least needs to get him a meal.

“How about you come have dinner with us tonight? I’m sure Alex won’t mind you staying over.”

Justin’s face pinches. “It’s fine, Mr Standall, really, you don’t have to--”

“It’s not really a request, son,” Bill smiles. Justin staying here is out of the question. The boy’s lips part before squeezing back together as he nods. Bill taps his hand. “Why don’t you go get some of your stuff?”

Justin gets up to do that, heading towards the stairs. Bill sighs and leans back in the seat, rubbing a hand over his face. He should have seen this a mile away. He should have known what was going on from that very first meeting, should have known better, sooner. How long has he been letting this go on? 

It doesn’t help that Justin won’t talk to him. It’s also painfully clear that he isn’t planning on telling Alex, either. Bill doesn’t blame him; he understands it has to be hard. He’s seen kids like Justin before. He doesn’t want that sitting on his son, either. But Justin’s his friend, and Bill knows he’ll stick by him as soon as he gets a whiff of something being wrong. It’s bound to be obvious, too, when Bill brings him home. He doesn’t know what he’s going to tell Alex, without telling him too much. He just knows Justin’s going to need him, whether the boy knows it or not.

Justin traipses back down the stairs, familiar blue duffel bag hung over his shoulder. He’s changed, too, into clean clothes with his letterman jacket over the top. Bill doesn’t comment on any of it, just stands and takes out his keys. “Ready to go?”

~^~

Alex is helping his mom make dinner when his dad gets home. He hears the door close before his dad walks into the kitchen, patting his shoulder in greeting. “Something smells good. Can you set another plate?”

Alex doesn’t look away from what he’s stirring but furrows his brow. “Uh, yeah, probably, but why--” He cuts himself off as he looks up and sees Justin standing in the doorway. “Hey.” It’s not the most eloquent thing he could have said, and he desperately wants to question the bandage on his face, but the words are stuck in his throat. 

Justin smiles slightly, but it looks tired. “Hi.”

“Are you staying for dinner, Justin?” Carolyn asks.

He glances at Bill. “Yeah. Staying over, if that’s okay?” He’s responding to his mom, but his questioning gaze is directed at Alex. 

Alex nods wordlessly, gesturing to the hall. “You can leave your bag up, it’s not ready yet.”

Justin nods his thanks, and Alex only notices the bandage on his hand when he turns away. What the hell happened?

The moment he’s gone Alex looks to his dad for the answer. Carolyn does the same, hands coming to her hips as she simply questions, “Bill?”

He lets out a sigh and looks at Alex first. “Can you give your mother and I a minute?” Alex hesitates, so he adds, “I promise I’ll talk to you after, I just have to discuss something with her first, alright?”

Well, it’s not like he has much of a choice. He nods, setting his spoon on the counter and walking out of the room. He heads to the living room and drops down on the couch, mind turning. 

It’s not that he’s surprised Justin’s here. That’s an occasional occurrence; it doesn’t exactly happen often, but it’s certainly a now and again. He and Justin aren’t that close, but they’re friends, and Alex likes him enough. He’s a lot less of a dick than some of the others, at least, and Alex enjoys hanging out with him. Justin seems to like him too. It’s not unusual that he’s here. 

It’s only his dad’s involvement that’s made him pause. It shouldn’t really; there’s the chance Justin was coming over and just met his dad in the driveway. Justin usually texts first now, but it’s still a possibility. Except there’s something off. About Justin’s mood, about the bandages, and then there’s Bill’s words. What would he have to talk to Alex about, discuss with his mom, if there was nothing wrong?

A bunch of theories run through his head. Did Justin do something wrong? Maybe he’s been in a fight, or something. Alex didn’t he’d been drunk or high, but he was distracted by the bandage. Still, Alex knows Justin well enough by now that he doesn’t think that would have been enough to make him miss it. 

He tells himself to stop thinking about it, but his brain keeps running without his permission and he gives up. He even tries straining to hear his parents’ conversation, but he can’t make anything out. He just slumps back into the couch and waits. 

When his dad finally comes in he straightens, leaning forward as Bill sits in the armchair next to him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, son, listen.” His dad’s using his officer voice, and it makes Alex straighten further. “I think it’s best if Justin stays here for a couple of weeks.”

“A couple weeks?” Alex’s brows raise. “Why, what happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure myself. But I’m worried things aren’t—they’re not safe for Justin at home. Have you ever gotten that feeling?”

Alex doesn’t really have to think. As soon as his dad said it, moments had flooded Alex’s mind, conversations here and there that didn’t quite make sense. He just hadn’t thought much into it—had thought if something was wrong it wasn’t really his business. 

“Yeah,” he admits, and the realisation hits him like a truck. “There were signs, but I never…”

His dad puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, kid, I’m not blaming you. Kids in these situations, they don’t tend to put it in their status. I’m just asking you, you know, you look out for him. Take care of him, see if you can get him to open up.”

Alex’s lips part. “We’re not really that close. I don’t think he’ll tell me anything.”

“Well, don’t push him. And don’t stress yourself out over it, alright? I’m hoping just giving him a safe space will be enough for now. But it means he’ll be sharing your room for a few nights until we sort out Peter’s.”

“That’s fine, Dad.”

“Right. Good.” Bill pats his knee. “Your mom and I just have to talk to Justin about it after dinner.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “You haven’t talked to Justin about it?”

“It’s complicated. I don’t think he would have come with me if I’d mentioned the idea at the time. He only agreed to tonight.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Bill sighs. “But I don’t want you worrying about it, alright? It’ll be alright. We’ll get it sorted.”

Alex nods mutely. He’s sure his dad is highly aware that telling people not to worry doesn’t stop their worrying, and it especially has never once worked with Alex. 

He doesn’t know why he expects dinner to be awkward, because they’ve had it with Justin before, but it is. Justin is dead silent while his parents painfully try to make small talk and get him to join in. It only makes Alex more stressed about the whole situation. 

When they’re done, he offers to wash the dishes like he always does only for his mom to tell him there’s no need with a pointed look. Alex isn’t going to argue that. He heads up to his room with the excuse of homework. Justin goes to follow him, and his dad calls him back. For a moment, Justin looks like he’s seriously considering running. Alex gives him a tiny smile of encouragement, and he reluctantly walks back into the kitchen. 

Alex goes upstairs and starts laying out the sheets on the floor. This is probably the only time the spare mattress is useful. He sets the pillows down carefully and layers a few blankets onto it, dumbing a couple more unceremoniously on the bottom in case Justin wants them. The usual set up. 

After he’s done that he drops onto his own bed. He does have homework, but he doesn’t think his brain even has the capability for it right now, and none of it’s due tomorrow anyway. Not before his free period, at least. 

He’s changed into sweats and a t-shirt by the time Justin comes up. His expression is blank, and it’s something Alex isn’t familiar with. It softens when he sees the made-up bed, and he gives Alex a tired smile. “Thanks.”

Alex shrugs. “It’s no problem. Everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

It isn’t an answer, and Alex raises his brows at it. But, his dad told him not to push. “Okay. Do you wanna use the bathroom first?”

“Uh, no, it’s fine, I already did.”

Alex nods, wondering if that’s it, and it appears to be so, because Justin isn’t even looking at him. He’s just rifling through his bag. Alex rolls his eyes just slightly, pushing himself off his bed as he mutters a half-hearted, “Cool.”

There’s an extra toothbrush at the sink. Alex realises Justin must have left it in here when he was leaving his bag in his room earlier. It’s strange, having it there and knowing it’s going to be there for an indefinite amount of time. 

By the time he gets back to his room, Justin’s in his makeshift bed. He’s curled on his side, cheek without the bandage pressed into the pillow. Alex feels another twinge of pity. He knows Justin is a restless sleeper. 

Alex flicks off the light and climbs into his own bed. He tugs the covers over him and turns onto his side too, looking at the vague lump on the floor. That’s all he can see in the dark. He lies there silently for a minute, thinking, debating. 

Finally, he just asks, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“What’s there to talk about?”

It’s grumpy. Defensive. Alex knows he isn’t going to get anywhere if he doesn’t push a little. “Maybe whatever happened to your face.”

“Nothing.” There’s some rustling. “Accident.”

“Like what? You fell into the counter?”

He actually sees the lump stiffen. “Fuck you, Standall. Why do you care anyway?”

See, the shitty thing is, Alex does care. He cares a lot, probably too much, like he always does, and it sucks. Justin Foley isn’t someone he should give a shit about, really, but he does. The sight of the bandage had made something in his chest tighten, heart clenching at the wrongness of it. They’re not close, but Justin’s nice to him. Justin had been the one to get Alex into that particular friend group, and though Alex didn’t like them anyway he knew it was a good look. Well, it was for him. It probably lessened the coolness of the others. 

He doesn’t think Justin Foley’s coolness could be lessened if he shit in public with nothing but a unicorn hat on his head. It would probably become a trend. 

Well, maybe the hat would. Hopefully not the shitting. 

Point is, Justin’s a god and Alex is lucky to be in any way associated with him, but Justin doesn’t think that. Doesn’t act like that. He treats Alex like they’re completely equal and always flashes him his pretty smile and Alex couldn’t not care about him if he tried. 

All he says, though, is, “Because we’re friends?”

“Fine. Then be my friend. Not my fucking therapist.”

Alex feels like that’s the end of the conversation. He probably shouldn’t have pushed. But if this is all Justin’s going to give him, it’s going to be a long couple of weeks.


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry,” Justin says. Alex is confused for a split second; the toast is good, he doesn’t understand the problem. “About last night. I’m the one in your space, I shouldn’t have been the one that was pissed off.”
> 
> Alex talks around a piece of toast. “Well,” he swallows, “I’m not going to be the pissed off one. Seriously. There’s nothing to apologise for. You didn’t wanna talk. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
> 
> Justin looks at him for a minute before nodding. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments/kudos on the last chapter!! I’m glad this fic has been noticed so far and I’m sorry this chapter took as long as it did. I don’t really have anything to say so I won’t keep you any longer!! There’s more Justlex in this chapter. If any of you have any questions btw feel free to ask, and tell me your thoughts on this chapter :)

_Little do you know_   
_How I’m breaking while you fall asleep_   
_Little do you know_   
_I’m still haunted by the memory_

~^~

It’s a completely normal Wednesday morning. There is really nothing strange about waking up to Justin Foley standing in his room, hair damp and clothes fresh. The bandage on his cheek is wet, but the one on his hand is gone, from what Alex can see of it where he’s digging through his bag. Alex’s immediate thought is that this is going to take some getting used to, which leads to a mini heart attack at the realisation it’s going to happen enough that he’ll grow used to it. 

He doesn’t say anything as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and turns off his alarm. Did Justin have one of his own that Alex didn’t hear, or is he just an early riser? Alex kind of doubts both, because any other time Justin stayed here he didn’t get up until Alex woke him. 

Justin doesn’t acknowledge him either, so he gets up silently to riffle through his closet. 

“Shower’s free,” Justin says. Alex turns to look at him. “Not that, uh, I didn’t mean like you need one, just that, I used it already and—“

Alex cuts him off. “Justin. I know what you meant.” He’s smiling slightly. Justin just averts his gaze, nodding. 

Alex watches him for a minute, thinking. He meant it when he said they weren’t really close, but they are still friends. It usually isn’t this awkward, is it? Or is Alex only noticing now?

No, he thinks. It usually isn’t this awkward. 

He’s still thinking about it as he heads to the bathroom. Justin’s going through stuff. It makes sense that he isn’t really himself. But….how long has he been going through it? Is it that this is actually him being himself, and what Alex has been seeing until now is just an act? It’s definitely possible, he realises. That Justin’s putting up a front for everyone to hide how he’s really feeling. That just makes Alex sad, though, so he stops thinking about it. He’s not supposed to push, anyway. 

He finds Justin in the kitchen after. He looks up when Alex comes in, same anxious expression on his face. Alex wants it to go away. It’s weird; looks wrong on Justin’s face. He wants his smile back. This just makes him feel awkward. 

“I, uh, I made you toast.” Justin pushes forward a plate to prove he did, in fact, make Alex toast. 

“Oh,” Alex raises his brows, sitting down across from him. “Thanks.”

“I would have made something better but I….don’t really know how to make anything else and everyone likes toast right?”

“It’s great, Justin,” Alex shakes his head, smiling. “You didn’t have to make anything.”

He never has before. Alex definitely isn’t going to complain—he doesn’t dislike toast, anyway, and he finds it incredibly sweet (and weird) that Justin put in the effort. It’s also weirdly adorable that he only did because he doesn’t know how to cook anything else. 

“I’m sorry,” Justin says. Alex is confused for a split second; the toast is good, he doesn’t understand the problem. “About last night. I’m the one in your space, I shouldn’t have been the one that was pissed off.”

Alex talks around a piece of toast. “Well,” he swallows, “I’m not going to be the pissed off one. Seriously. There’s nothing to apologise for. You didn’t wanna talk. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Justin looks at him for a minute before nodding. “Thanks,” he says quietly. 

He eats along with Alex silently. Alex catches him wince once, hand coming up to his bandaged cheek before quickly dropping again. Alex is taking his last few bites when Justin speaks again, hesitantly. 

“Do you have any smaller bandages, or something? I don’t wanna go to school with this on my face,” he gestures meekly. 

“Oh, yeah, probably. I’ll go look.” Alex stands, setting his plate by the sink and jogging back up the stairs. He finds the first aid kit under the bathroom sink and heads back down to Justin. 

He stops in the doorway to the kitchen. Justin has already taken the bandage off, and Alex can see the angry red gash on his cheek. It causes this pinch in his chest. He knew, of course, that the bandage had to be there for a reason, that it was covering up something. He just didn’t really think about what was hidden underneath. 

He shakes it off. He doesn’t want to make Justin all weird again. He sets the box on the counter and pops it open, looking through it. He glances back at Justin and his brow furrows. 

“Unless you wanna stick a bunch of smaller band-aids over it, I don’t know. A bandage like the one you had is the only thing that’s going to cover it properly.” He bites his lip, looking at the cut in debate. “Or we have those butterfly stitches.”

Justin’s brow furrows. “Like the paper ones they use on kids?” 

“Yeah, but they work for everything. My mom showed me how to use them, if you want me to….”

He trails off, looks at Justin questioningly. He hesitates for a minute before nodding, and Alex nods too, directing him to sit on the stool. He does so and Alex sets the open box next to him, taking out the little packet of stitches. “You have to kind of, pinch the skin closed so it might hurt a little,” Alex tells him. Justin just nods wordlessly. 

“They’re small ones,” Alex continues, “so they’re not as noticeable. Or annoying.” He raises his hand carefully to Justin’s face, fingers touching his cheek. Justin’s very still, eyes trained on Alex’s shoulder, and Alex tries to think of something else to say. “They’re supposed to last five to seven days and then they just fall off themselves, and it should be healed. At least mostly.”

He sticks the edge of the first one to Justin’s skin, to the left of the cut, at the middle; remembering what his mom had taught him. He uses the thumb of his free hand to gently push the cut closed, and attaches the stitch over it. Justin shifts a little, but doesn’t make any other movements or a single sound. 

It’s easier from here, Alex remembers, now that that one’s applied correctly. He moves onto the next one, above it. “I had a cut kinda like this. Scraped it on a branch. My dad was like ‘just brush it off, son’,” he lowers his voice in a poor imitation, but Justin’s lips quirk up slightly. “But my mom thought it was the perfect opportunity to teach me how to do this. She did the first one, making me watch in the mirror and telling me how you’re supposed to start in the middle to hold it closed better. Then she told me to try the rest. I was walking around with these big crooked strips over a scrape for a week.”

He has the top half done now. He checks if Justin’s still okay, getting an answering nod and the other boy actually looking at him. “It’s pretty cool. Having a nurse for a mom. Does she teach you a lot of this stuff?”

Alex shrugs. “The simpler things she thinks I’m actually capable of,” he smiles. “My dad’s cop stuff is probably cooler.”

Justin shakes his head. “This is pretty cool,” he argues. Then he quietly adds, “You must feel pretty safe.”

It’s going to take nine stitches, Alex notes. He hates the way Justin had sounded, the way he said it. In this sort of wistful tone, as if he can only imagine what that’s like—to feel safe in your own home. It makes it a little easier to guess where this came from. Alex has an awkward desire to hug him. 

His natural reflex is to brush it off, explain that it just means they’re not really here often. That isn’t what Justin needs, though. 

He nods, keeping his tone soft. “They definitely try to make sure it’s safe here.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but when Justin looks up at him, he hopes his expression conveys what he’s trying to tell him. That he’s safe here. They’ll keep him safe here. 

Then they’re just looking at other. Alex dumbly, and Justin with this heartbreakingly puppy-looking expression. Alex forces himself to look away, dropping his hand as he clears his throat. “You’re done.”

Alex hands him the little mirror from the box. Justin glances in it quickly and puts it back. “Okay?” Alex asks cautiously, but Justin nods. “Mom probably could have done them better if you’d asked her.”

Justin shrugs, looks down. “I didn’t wanna bother anyone more. They’re good. You could be a professional anyway.” 

He grins and nudges Alex’s foot with his own. Alex rolls his eyes and smiles back, a little bit of relief running through him. This is a more familiar Justin, more like the one he knows. This is a Justin he’s used to and knows how to deal with. 

“You should probably still put a bandage over it, but—“

“But this looks so much more badass,” Justin’s grin widens. 

Alex shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Do you want me to do the same with your hand? There’s more chance of it getting infected or something.”

“Uhm, it’s fine, I’ll just put another bandage on it.”

He stands and Alex reaches out but doesn’t touch him. “Do you want me to do it? It’s one of the things I was deemed capable of.”

Justin looks at him for a minute. He doesn’t give him an answer, but he sits back down and holds his hand out. Alex bites back a smile and turns back to the kit. 

“I should clean it again first just in case.” Justin stares at him. “My dad did clean it, right?” 

“I-I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Alex softens. He doesn’t know what happened, but he’s currently cleaning the boy’s cuts. Whatever it was must have shaken him, had definitely hurt him, and Alex doubts it was for the first time. He has that urge to hug him again. 

He ignores it and gently cradles Justin’s hand instead. Justin tenses again while he cleans it, and Alex doesn’t know what to talk about to distract him this time. He just tries to work quickly and hope it doesn’t hurt much. He’s unrolling the bandage when Justin speaks again. 

“It’s not a big deal. It was an accident. Then I was trying to clean it up and I—it was my fault, and it’s not even that bad.”

Alex blinks at him. “I just put stitches on your face.”

Justin looks frustrated. “I…”

“Justin,” Alex squeezes his fingers lightly. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

He wishes he would, though. Wishes he would tell him the truth and allow Alex to help. To tell him how he can help. He thinks that’s the main problem though. Justin doesn’t want any help—doesn’t believe he needs it in the first place. Alex knows he can’t push. Justin will only tell him if he wants to. Or hopefully, when he wants to. 

They sit in silence as Alex cleans and wraps his hand, and Justin remains just as tense until Alex lets go. “There,” he mutters, tidying the box up and closing it again. 

“Thanks,” Justin says earnestly, and when Alex turns to look at him he’s smiling. “You’re at least a better nurse than your dad.”

Alex shakes his head, but he lets himself smile too. 

~^~

He gives Justin a ride to school, and it’s spent in an unusual and tense silence. Alex is quickly starting to detest it. Justin doesn’t say anything when he gets out, and Alex watches him walk towards his friends, a smile appearing on his face in an instant. It’s the same bright grin he’d given Alex this morning. 

And it’s completely and utterly fake. 

Alex doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before. It seems so obvious, looking at it now. Had it really always been like that? Surely it couldn’t have been. He’s seen it real, he’s sure he has. Hasn’t he?

Hannah finds him at his locker almost immediately when he’s inside and he shuts the door to see her wearing a smug look. “What?”

“You gave Justin Foley a ride to school.”

Alex sighs. He’s had this same conversation numerous times, for every time Justin had stayed with him before. “Yeah, I usually do that when he stays at my house.”

“Exactly. You have details that I require.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively and Alex rolls his eyes. 

“I thought I already explained to you he doesn’t just walk around my house shirtless? I don’t have, pictures for you or whatever other stalker information you’re looking for.”

Jessica appears on his other side, seemingly out of nowhere. “It’s not stalking, Alex. We’re simply showing interest.”

“If you weren’t stalking how did you immediately know what we were talking about?” Alex counters. 

“Oh, Alex.” They each take one of his arms as they start down the hallway, and he looks over at Jessica. “Everyone knows when—and who with—Justin gets here.”

Alex rolls his eyes again. Of course they do. 

“So. Do we get details?”

“There are no details,” Alex shrugs. “He’s staying at mine for a while, like he’s done before. No big deal.”

Hannah raises her brows. “A while? How long is a while? Doesn’t he usually just stay a night and then ditch you?”

Alex stares at her. “Wow, Hannah. Thanks for making me sound like a one night stand.”

“I didn’t! I made you like a, multiple night stand. Are his parents away or something? Wouldn’t he just stay with Bryce?”

Alex’s face screws up at the mention of him. Justin would probably rather that; Alex is sure it’ll only be a matter of time before he tells his dad the same and does ditch him. 

“Is it true he was in a fight?” Hannah asks curiously. “Apparently he has stitches and his hand’s all bandaged.”

“They’re butterfly stitches,” Alex mutters, “and his hand’s bandaged because he cut it.” He realises his mistake when they both raise their eyebrows at him. “I don’t know what happened, though.”

It isn’t a lie. He doesn’t know, not really. He’s pretty sure he can guess most of it, but he keeps reminding himself no one here knows anything, and Justin most likely doesn’t want them to. Arriving with Alex isn’t a big deal, Justin always arrives with someone and Alex is at least partly in their group. Most of their classmates don’t know that Alex’s dad is a cop much less the sheriff, and they definitely don’t know he’s the one who brought Justin back last night. 

“Whatever it was,” Jessica breaks him out of his thoughts, “those stitches look badass and it makes him even hotter.”

Alex doesn’t say anything. The way Justin had sat tense as he’d applied them, his quietness since last night—badass wouldn’t have been the word he’d used. They were just physical and visible proof that Justin was hurt. 

He lets them think what they want, sure there’ll be a handful of theories by the end of the day anyway, none of them anywhere near the truth. He wonders what will be taken as it though, what story Justin will spin when asked. Even that will be more than what he’s given Alex. 

~^~

“You got drunk and fell into the counter?”

Justin looks at him as they get out of the car in Alex’s driveway. The school day had gone as he’d assumed, boring classes and numerous Justin Foley rumours. Apparently, though, this was the one that had come from the source himself and everyone thought was hilarious. 

“I’ve seen you drunk before, and you weren’t last night,” he adds when Justin doesn’t say anything. 

He watches Justin’s eyes darken, lips turning down in a scowl as he walks to the door, away from him. “What does it matter, Standall?”

Alex lets out a sigh, supposing it doesn’t. It’s not like Justin is ever going to tell him anything else. 

This evening goes much the same as the last one, except Justin is back to acting a lot more relaxed and happy. Alex can’t help but see all of it as fake now. His lips not fully upturned in his smile, none of the happiness they portray shown in his eyes. He can see every bit of tightness in his muscle, every tensed movement in his ‘relaxed’ posture. It gets to the point where he wonders if he’s looking too hard into it that now this is what he’s imagining. 

But somehow, he doubts it. 

Justin is polite and laughing with his parents, but it’s as if Alex doesn’t exist. He wants to call him out on it, scream at him that he’s _just trying to be here for you, you infuriating bastard_ , but he refrains. It’s difficult, but he manages it. 

He doesn’t bother attempting to talk to him, before trying to go to sleep. Justin’s already hidden himself under his covers, faced away from Alex’s bed when Alex comes in. Alex just wordlessly flicks out the light and crawls into his own bed. He listens to Justin’s breathing, silently urging him to say something, until he falls asleep. 

It’s a couple of hours later that he’s woken up again. It’s the middle of the night kind of darkness that’s coming through the window now, and Alex flicks on the lamp next to his bed before rolling over to look at Justin. 

He’s tossing and turning on the mattress, little whimpers of ‘no’ and ‘stop’ escaping his mouth. His face is scrunched up as he starts pleading and Alex makes out a, “I’m sorry, please.” His forehead shines with a layer of sweat and his eyes are squeezed shut. Dreaming. 

Alex’s eyes widen. He has absolutely no idea how to handle this situation. 

He slowly slides off his bed and kneels beside Justin. He has to wake him, at least, isn’t going to do him any good leaving him in a nightmare. “Justin,” he calls gently. It doesn’t make any difference, Justin still whimpering in his sleep, so Alex rests a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “Justin.”

This, on the other hand, works a little too well. Justin’s eyes shoot open as he jerks away, narrowly avoiding hitting his head off Alex’s bed. “D-don’t touch me,” he says frantically. “Get away from me, don’t touch me!”

“Okay,” Alex soothes, quickly dropping his hands back in his lap. “Okay, Justin, you’re okay.” Justin’s pushed himself as far away from Alex as he can get, fingers clutching the blanket to his chest. 

Alex wants to reach out. Just set a hand on his arm, hug him, brush back his hair like Alex’s mum used to do for him. He wonders if anyone’s ever done that for Justin. He doubts it. Right now, though, Justin’s making it clear he doesn’t want it. He looks absolutely terrified. His eyes are flitting around, unfocused, as he repeatedly pleads with Alex not to touch him. 

“Please, please, don’t,” Justin repeats, trembling. Alex tries to think of something to say to reassure him, refuses to just sit here and watch him shake. 

Something they did must have been too loud, because Alex’s door opens and his dad comes in. His eyes find Justin and grow concerned. “What’s going on?”

He starts to come in and if possible, Justin cowers back further, shaking his head. “Stop, please, I’m sorry, stop,” he’s sobbing, tears leaking out of his eyes and Alex’s heart breaks. 

Bill’s halfway into the room, looking conflicted and Alex raises a hand to him. “Dad, don’t, you’re making it worse.”

He considers Alex for a moment before walking back towards the door. Justin seems to relax a little. Alex turns back to him and sinks down a bit, trying to make himself look smaller, less threatening. Even though he can’t see how he could look any kind of threatening in the first place. 

“Justin,” he starts softly, and Justin’s gaze jerks back to him, eyes still unfocused. “Justin, it’s okay. You were dreaming, but you’re awake now. You’re safe, okay? No one’s going to hurt you. I’m not going to touch you. Alright?”

Justin nods slowly, and Alex sees him come back. “Alex?” His voice cracks. 

“Yeah, Jus. You’re in my room, remember?” He gets another slow nod. Bill’s still in the doorway, and Alex can feel his gaze on him. “Okay. You know I’m not going to hurt you, don’t you? I’m not going to hurt you.”

This nod is even slower—more hesitant. But it’s there. “Sorry,” Justin chokes out. 

Alex shakes his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Do you wanna go back to sleep?” Justin starts to shake his head quickly and Alex rushes to appease him, “Okay, that’s okay.”

He glances at his clock. It’s just a little after two in the morning. Justin’s going to be exhausted if he doesn’t get any more sleep. Alex looks to his dad, but he only shrugs his shoulders helplessly. Alex bites at his lip, thinking. He sits back on the floor against his bed, crossing his legs under him. He keeps his hands clasped in his lap, where Justin can see them, and speaks softly again. 

“Okay. How about just lying back down? I’m going to sit right here, so no one else can get near you, alright? You don’t have to sleep, or talk, or anything. You can just lay back down and I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I’ll just sit here and watch over you, okay? Does that sound okay?”

This time there’s less hesitation in Justin’s nod, and he takes a minute to settle himself back down against the pillow. He watches Alex. “You—you won’t leave?”

Alex shakes his head seriously, heart softening. “I’m gonna stay right here. Promise.” Justin relaxes a little more, and Alex tries not to find the way he hugs the blanket around him so adorable. Alex looks back at his dad as he does, giving him a nod. He can leave—Alex can handle it. Bill nods back at him, smiling softly as he steps out into the hall and closes the door quietly. 

He tips his head back against his bed and looks at Justin. The other boy’s already looking back at him. He’s curled up small on his side under the blanket, and Alex thinks he’s shivering. “Are you cold?” Alex asks. Justin doesn’t answer, and Alex takes that as a yes. It might still be remnants of the nightmare, but either way Alex wants to help a little. “I’m going to put another blanket over you, okay?”

Justin still doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t protest, so Alex lifts one of the blankets from the bottom of the mattress. He opens it out and lays it over Justin carefully, ready to pull back it Justin starts panicking again. But Justin doesn’t move, his breathing staying smooth as Alex tucks it around his shoulders. After a minute he’s shaking less violently, and his eyes are starting to droop. 

Alex keeps his voice a whisper. “You can close your eyes if you want to. It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Justin looks at him for another moment before his eyes drift closed. Alex shifts a little, slumping further down against the side of the bed. It’s not the most comfortable, but it’s only for a little while. He hates that there isn’t much he can do, but if this helps then he’ll sit here all night if he has to. He’s exhausted too, but the thought of having just gone back to bed or leaving Justin like that is almost painful. No. He could never have done that. 

Justin’s breath gets slower and heavier, his body relaxing fully and Alex thinks he’s asleep. He waits another while just in case, then says Justin’s name quietly. The boy’s breathing doesn’t change and he doesn’t move, so Alex gets up as silently as he can and slips back into bed. He looks down at Justin for another minute before flicking off the light and sinking into his pillow. 

He wonders what’s going to happen in the morning. If Justin will still be shaken by it. If he’ll be embarrassed. If he’ll talk to them about it. 

Or if he’ll just brush it off, pretend it never happened like he’s done with everything else. 

Alex knows it’s something he’ll just have to deal with when it happens, however Justin decides to go about it. Not pushing, he reminds himself. Still, he can’t help but be even more worried about him, now. He has no idea what the whole thing was about, and he feels like Justin isn’t going to tell him. 

He decides there’s at least nothing more he can do right now, and he keeps listening to Justin’s steady breathing as he falls asleep.


	3. Going Nowhere Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You gonna tell me why you’re staring at me?” Justin turns his head to look at him. 
> 
> “How are your stitches?”
> 
> Justin blinks. “....Still on my face so, fine?”
> 
> Alex nods. He doesn’t even know why he asked. It was just the first thing that came to mind. It’s obvious he shouldn’t have expected that to have Justin spilling his life story. “Right. Yeah. Cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so overdue and a little short, I’m not even gonna bother with excuses. Thank you all for your kudos so far, and your lovely comments, they make writing this better. Tell me what you think of this chapter too!! 
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention that this is all based on a request I got.

_You push and you push and I’m pulling away,_   
_Pulling away from you_   
_You’re running around and I’m running away,_   
_Running away from you, from you_

It happens again the next day. 

And the day after that. 

It follows a similar process to that first night. Alex wakes up to Justin’s whimpers and wakes Justin as gently as he can. It doesn’t take as long for Justin to come back to him the next time, doesn’t take as much reassurance for him to calm down again. Still, Alex sits there on the floor with him until he manages to go back to sleep, but that time gets shorter too. 

Justin doesn’t talk about it. He hasn’t said a word, and none of them have asked. Alex wants to. Every time it happens he gets a little more worried, and a lot more curious. He wants to know what has hurt Justin this much, what’s left him to wake up in the middle of the night terrified. 

It’s not just during the night, either. Alex has started to pay more attention to Justin—he always had, it was impossible not to, but he’d upped it a little. It was hard not to notice the way Justin flinched back every time someone moved or reached in his direction. Alex became distinctly aware of it when he’d reached past Justin to get a book and he jerked away before quickly settling himself again and pretending nothing had happened. 

Alex was still sticking to the ‘not pushing’ method, but it was getting harder. It hurts, having Justin pull so far away from him. He can’t stop wondering if he’d been blinded the whole time, if a single interaction he’s ever had with Justin has actually been real. He wants them to be, likes the friendship he thought they’d created. But he can’t help doubting everything now. 

It makes him pissed at himself then, more than anything. That he can be so self-pitying in this situation. His mind keeps saying that it makes sense, that he wants to Justin to talk to him so he can actually do something to help him, because he only feels useless now. But even that’s selfish. Justin telling him would make it easier for Alex, but he has no idea what it would do to Justin himself. It’s his choice, and there’s a reason he’s chose to stay quiet. 

Alex doesn’t know how all that reasoning flies out the window. 

He’s never been more grateful it’s a Saturday, because no alarm wakes him up. By the time he peels his eyes open it’s already fully bright out and well into the morning and he doesn’t feel like he needs another few hours of sleep or multiple cups of coffee. He rolls over to find the mattress on the floor empty, as it always is. He doesn’t understand how Justin’s always up before him. He’s an athlete, shouldn’t he need more sleep? Or is that why he doesn’t?

He gives up trying to figure it out pretty quickly. It’s just another thing about Justin he should stop having pointless internal debates on. 

He’s up late enough his parents are already gone, although that’s usual even on school mornings. The kitchen’s empty when he goes down to make his breakfast and he pauses before he does. He heads to the living room and leans in the open doorway. Justin’s sitting in the corner of the couch, TV playing a show he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to. 

“Hey,” Alex greets softly. Justin looks up at him. “I’m making breakfast. Do you want anything?”

Justin smiles, raising a brow at him teasingly. “More like brunch, now.”

Alex flips him off and his smile widens. “Whatever. Do you want me to make you something or not?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” he adds quietly, and Alex freezes a bit at the sudden mood change. He just bites back a sigh and nods, but Justin has already looked away. Alex just turns around and goes back to the kitchen. 

Justin’s still in the same spot when he comes back in after, and Alex sits on the other side of the couch. The television provides little more than background noise, Alex hardly glancing at it as his gaze immediately settles on Justin. He doesn’t even see any point in denying it. Honestly, where else would he be looking?

“You gonna tell me why you’re staring at me?” Justin turns his head to look at him. 

“How are your stitches?”

Justin blinks. “....Still on my face so, fine?”

Alex nods. He doesn’t even know why he asked. It was just the first thing that came to mind. It’s obvious he shouldn’t have expected that to have Justin spilling his life story. “Right. Yeah. Cool.”

“You okay, Standall?”

“Are you?” Alex asks immediately. 

Justin cuts his gaze away, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

“Waking up terrified in the middle of the night doesn’t really scream ‘fine’ to me.”

Alex regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, but he can’t take them back then. They came out too blunt, not at all in the gentle way he was planning on. So much for not pushing. He thinks Justin had already been shutting down again, but he can see it vividly now, the door to his head being slammed and locked before Alex can even think about peeking inside. “I’m fine,” he repeats. 

“Justin,” Alex tries to soften his tone, “I just want to help. Why won’t you let me?”

“I don’t need anyone’s fucking help,” Justin snaps. “I didn’t ask to stay here.”

“I didn’t ask for you to be here, either,” Alex retorts, too harsh, but he can’t seem to stop it. “I didn’t ask to be woken up every night because I’m sharing my room with an asshole who won’t fucking talk to me.”

Justin stares at him for a few seconds before standing abruptly, walking out of the room. Alex groans, purely at himself for being such a fucking idiot before chasing after him. He’s only gone to the kitchen though, sat at the counter where he stares at the wood intensely. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex apologises. “I didn’t—that came out wrong. I’m just trying to figure it out, Justin.”

Justin looks up at him, and he doesn’t look sad, or angry, or anything. His face is just blank. “I didn’t ask you to. If I had anything I thought you should know, I’d tell you.”

“I...Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.” Justin shrugs and trains his eyes back on the counter. They stay like that for a few awkward moments before Alex decides to just change the subject. It seems like the best option, at this point. “I’m supposed to be going to Jeff’s. Do you wanna come?”

Justin shakes his head and Alex’s brow furrows. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ll probably be pretty bored here.”

“I’m good. I think I, uh, I’m gonna take a nap actually.”

“Oh,” Alex blinks, nods. “Okay. Do you...want me to stay?”

“No, you go,” Justin shakes his head again, already standing up. “Have fun,” he adds over his shoulder as he heads towards the stairs. 

Alex sighs outwardly this time. He really shouldn’t have pushed. 

~^~

The others are already there when he gets to Jeff’s. By others, he simply means Jeff himself, Scott, and Zach. Alex finds them in the basement, Zach eating a bag of crisps on the arm of the couch, watching Scott and Jeff play a game of pool. 

“Hey man,” Jeff ruffles his hair by way of greeting and Scott gives him a nod. Zach holds out the bag of crisps in offering. Alex digs out a couple gratefully, leaning on the couch arm next to him. 

He can feel Zach’s eyes on him and he looks over to see him chewing thoughtfully. “What’s wrong?” Zach asks after a minute. 

Alex gapes at him. “I literally just came in.”

“Yep,” Jeff agrees, and Alex turns to see him leaning on his cue stick, not even looking at them. “And you didn’t hit me when I touched your hair, or complain. So come on, tell us.”

Alex slumps. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired. Haven’t been getting a lot of sleep.”

Jeff tilts his head at him. “Justin’s staying with you, isn’t he?” Alex nods and he raises a brow. “Does he snore?”

“If he does, I’ve never heard it,” Zach inputs. 

Alex can’t recall ever hearing it, either, and thinks it’s pretty unlikely. Justin is too angelic to snore, really. God, Alex hates himself for even thinking that. 

“No, Justin’s fine,” Alex says, fully aware of how untrue it is. Justin doesn’t seem fine, and it’s the reason Alex hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep. At this point, it isn’t the sound of Justin having his nightmares, either. It’s like the second the boy falls asleep, Alex is extra alert, waiting for it to start. He’s become so aware of Justin, his mind refusing to sleep when it knows Justin will need him. Sure, Alex has managed to shut it up every night eventually, but a couple hours after that the nightmares kick in and he’s wide awake, back in his place on the floor. 

He doesn’t mind it, really. Yes, he’s tired, but he wants to be there for Justin. He can’t be irritated by it, or mad at him for it. He just wishes there was more he could do, some way he could make Justin really feel safe so that the problem would stop completely. At the very least, he wants to understand. 

It just doesn’t seem like Justin’s going to let him anytime soon. 

“Did he and Bryce fall out?” Zach asks curiously. Alex bristles, ready to tell him he doesn’t need to be fighting with Bryce to stay with him when Zach adds, “They’ve been kinda off with each other.”

Alex’s brow furrows. He hasn’t noticed that. Has he? He thinks about it and realises Justin has been a little...distant towards him? Then again, Justin’s been a little distant in general recently. Still, Alex thought he was keeping up his facade around his friends nicely. He especially didn’t expect it would have dropped around Bryce, but then again, maybe Bryce was where he let his guard down. Alex doesn’t particularly like that thought. It probably makes him a terrible person, but he kind of prefers the theory that they’re fighting. It could be adding to all of Justin’s distress, something that could be fixed and make him start feeling better. It is, also, a good reason for him not to have left Alex’s yet. 

“Maybe. It could be the reason he’s still staying with me,” Alex shrugs. That, and the fact his dad brought him there. 

Jeff grins at him. “Bet you can’t wait til that’s over.”

“I like Justin,” Alex defends. “He’s a good guy.”

Scott nudges Jeff with his cue and he leans over the table to take his shot as he responds with a blunt, “He’s a dick.”

Well, Alex supposes, that isn’t exactly wrong. Justin is kind of a dick but then again, it’s something Alex is becoming more and more sure he simply puts on for show. He is Bryce’s best friend, and Bryce is most definitely a dick, and Justin has to uphold the same reputation or some bullshit like that. 

“Yeah, and so is Scott but you don’t hold it against him,” Alex points out. 

Jeff makes a noise, straightening up as he gives Alex an affronted look. “Scott is a sweetheart.” Alex scoffs. 

“Yeah, Alex,” Scott says, flipping him off. “I’m a sweetheart.”

Alex nods. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees sarcastically. “Then Justin’s a sweetheart too.” They all give him blank looks and he adds, “Underneath the dick exterior.”

“You’re just too nice to him, Lex,” Zach shakes his head, offering the bag again. 

“Or you’re all just too hard on him,” Alex grumbles, taking some more crisps. They’re not, really, only ever as hard on Justin as they are on each other, and themselves. Even if Justin can be a dick it’s rarely ever towards any of them and they know it. Alex has made a handful of his own joking comments about it, but he feels terrible about it now. 

He feels ten times more defensive of Justin than he had before. Protective. He knows that probably sounds stupid, as he doesn’t have an ounce of muscle and Justin would be much better at just protecting himself but Alex isn’t even sure he means it in a physical sense. Of course in a way he does, having seen Justin hurt and flinching at every movement, knowing the cause was far from the excuses Justin made. He hates seeing it, wants to prevent any of that harm from ever coming to Justin again, would feel like that towards any of his friends in that situation. 

But he always wants to protect Justin’s feelings. He’s obviously going through something very difficult, whatever the actual details are, and Alex hates more that he’s putting himself through it alone. He gets the feeling that a lot of the hurt is going on inside Justin, rather than the little blemishes Alex can see. Alex hates that there’s something preventing Justin from letting that out; from letting him in. 

He can’t make Justin open up—that much has been made clear to him. But maybe he can prevent any more hurt from being added, even if that’s only telling off his friends for their remarks. He’s sure now that Justin’s attitude is more of a defense mechanism than anything else, and Alex doesn’t want to hear him being insulted for it. 

He knows they don’t know that, though. They aren’t aware of how he’s hurting and Alex can’t tell them. It isn’t his place, and he doesn’t know much himself anyway. He can’t explain to them that that isn’t really Justin, not at all. That the Justin Alex is starting to know wakes him up in the night with his whimpers. That he flinches away from a hand as harmless as Alex’s or his mother’s, a nurse. That he’s nothing more than a scared kid, and Alex doesn’t know what his real smile looks like anymore. He’s worried he never did. 

Alex wants to protect him. At the very least, he wants to give the damn kid a hug. 

Zach rattles the bag of crisps in front of him, and when Alex takes another handful he gives him a questioning look. Alex smiles and hopes it looks reassuring, doubting it when Zach narrows his eyes back. But he doesn’t push; just goes back to watching Jeff and Scott where they’ve focused back on their game. 

For a second, Alex considers asking him. Out of all of them Zach is probably the closest one to Justin, possibly even more so than Alex—not that that would be hard. Justin stays with him and plays sports with him and eats lunch with him. Maybe he knows something about it. He debates even asking him if he’s ever heard Justin talk in his sleep, just to see the reaction. If he’s ever witnessed the nightmares. 

But he’s never given any indication that he has, or that anything about Justin worries him. It makes Alex doubt it, because Zach really is a sweetheart and Alex is sure he’d be helping Justin if he thought he needed it. Asking anything would only be giving away the knowledge that there’s a problem, and that isn’t Alex’s place. 

He stays quiet and turns back to the game of pool being finished in front of him, Jeff pumping his fist in victory, and pushes all thoughts of Justin from his mind. 

Alex stays at Jeff’s for another few hours, playing video games and eating junk food and partaking in a few more games of pool (Alex is, proudly, the only one capable of beating Jeff). He leaves at the same time as Zach, and on his way home, decides to take a quick detour. He does still feel bad for this morning. 

He stops at Monets and buys two cups of coffee, with milk and sugar, because he has a sweet tooth and Justin deserves a little sweetness too. He knows it’s a safe bet, because he’s watched Justin order the same thing for himself before. It’s as much of an apology as he can think of—Alex has never been against a little bribery. Plus, he really is sorry. 

Justin isn’t in the living room, or the kitchen, or the bathroom, so Alex assumes he’s still taking a nap, or trying to. He makes his way up to his room, starting to push the door open. “Hey, I brought you coffee for being a dick earli—“

He cuts himself off abruptly when he realises the room is empty. His own bed is untouched since he made it this morning, and the blankets on the floor are also neatly arranged as they had been. Alex stares at the room for a second, trying to figure out what he’s missing. It leads him to the realisation that it is, for one, Justin, and his duffel. 

Alex spins around, calling out a, “Justin? You here?” He’s not necessarily surprised he doesn’t get an answer, but it leads to slight panic. His heart is starting to beat faster and he jogs back down the stairs. He checks the kitchen again and leaves the coffee on the table. Then the living room. Still calling Justin’s name. 

He goes back upstairs. He checks Peter’s room. Then his parents’. Then his own. He checks the bathroom, and his gaze falls over the sink, where Justin’s toothbrush is absent. 

Alex presses his hand to his forehead and breathes a quiet, “Fuck.”


	4. Hide and Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!! Enjoy :)

_Some things are meant to be secret, and not to be heard_   
_So if I tell you, just keep it and don't say a word_

~^~

Alex has downed his own cup of coffee and moved onto Justin’s. He knows it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink them while driving when his mind and heart already a little out of pace but he also couldn’t help it. He thrives on coffee. He allows the idea that he may be a little over-caffeinated as he barges into his dad’s office, fingers twitching around the cup and legs feeling restless. 

He drops into one of the chairs as he slams his cup on the desk, foot tapping rapidly as soon as he’s stopped moving. “Justin’s gone.”

“Hi, son. Nice of you to just drop by my work like this,” his dad raises a brow at him. 

Alex leans forward, bracing his hands on the wood in front of him. “Didn’t you hear me? Justin’s gone. Left. Disappeared. Poof.”

At this, Alex is happy to see his dad look more concerned. “Maybe he just went for a walk?”

“No, Dad, all his stuff is gone. I went to Jeff’s and when I came back he wasn’t there and his bag was gone. He even took his toothbrush out of the bathroom. He’s gone.”

“Alright, son, just calm down,” Bill soothes. “Did you see him before you left?”

Alex deflates immediately, thinking back to his conversation with the other boy this morning. “I…I might’ve said something I probably shouldn’t have? It just came out wrong and I was just trying to get him to talk to me and it was stupid. Okay, I knew it and I apologized right away. I asked him if he wanted to come to Jeff’s and he said he was just going to take a nap and I asked if he wanted me to stay and he said no so I left and I brought him back apology coffee and he wasn’t fucking there.”

He shakes the said cup for emphasis before taking another sip. He notices his dad’s reprimanding look and realises the curse he let in there. “Sorry,” he mutters. His foot is still stuck in its anxious tapping and he puts a hand on his knee and forces it to stop. 

“Alright, first, you know this wasn’t your fault, don’t you?” Bill asks, and Alex averts his gaze to his coffee. 

“Wasn’t it?” He should never have left Justin. He knew what he said this morning was stupid and it had obviously struck a chord with Justin. That should have been the first hint. Along with that, Justin had said he was going to take a nap. For the past couple nights, Justin wouldn’t even lay down if Alex wasn’t in the room. (Which did painfully weird things to Alex’s heart, but that was beside the point.) He should have seen the comment for the blatant lie it was. 

“No, it wasn’t,” Bill insists, leaning his arms on the desk. “I’m sure it was something on Justin’s mind.”

Alex slumps further, resting his head in his hand with a sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel better. Do you—do you think he went home?”

He hears his dad sigh, too. “It’s a possibility that concerns me. You don’t think he could have just gone to a friend’s?”

“It’s a possibility that concerns me,” Alex huffs. It had been his first thought, honestly. That Justin had just left him to go to Bryce. It wouldn’t be even a slight surprise, but it makes Alex feel a little uneasy, for some reason. It’s this urge in him to take care of Justin, he thinks. He wouldn’t bet Bryce is the caring type. 

“What do you mean?”

Alex looks up at his dad. “I—His best friend is kind of a dick, that’s all.” Then, realizing what he said, “Sorry.”

“I thought you were his best friend,” Bill’s brow is furrowed.

Alex stares at him in disbelief before shaking his head. “Of course you did. We need to find him.”

“I would like to go right now, but I can’t just leave work, Alex.”

“Can’t you call him though, or something? He won’t pick up for me.”

“Then I probably won’t have any more luck. We have no proof that he isn’t safe, you shouldn’t worry so much yet.”

Alex shifts in his seat. “I just want to know he is. Can you just try something, please?” His dad looks at him consideringly for a second before nodding. Alex immediately feels his heart ease a little as he pushes himself up. “Okay, I’m going to go look for him. Tell me if you get him.”

He’s just through the doorway when his dad calls his name. Alex looks back at him and he gestures towards himself. “Leave the coffee.” Alex glances at the cup still in his hand, then back up at his dad sheepishly. 

“It’s empty,” he admits. 

Bill sighs, sinking down in his chair. “Trash can.”

Alex tosses it in on his way out. He settles back into his car and rests his head on the steering wheel. He’s exhausted and stressed and worried and he hates this. Why is he even freaking out so much? Justin probably just finally left him to go to Bryce’s, like he’s been expecting this whole time. He doesn’t know why that’s causing him so much freaking anxiety. 

Maybe it’s the complete lack of response from Justin. Alex had called him the second his brain had started working again, then sent him a text when he didn’t pick up. Then added a few more texts, then tried calling again. Justin hasn’t responded even just to tell Alex to leave him alone. Really, at this point in their friendship he at least expects that. 

He just wants to know he’s okay. 

He picks his head up with a sigh and takes out his phone again. There’s still nothing from Justin. Alex pulls his bottom lip between his teeth before deciding to try calling him again. It rings out and he closes his eyes briefly as he hangs up without leaving a message. He’s sure Justin wouldn’t listen to it. 

There’s three possibilities he can think of, only two of which are real while the other is him being overly hopeful. He decides to go with that one first, and he calls Zach.

He, thankfully, picks up on the third ring. “Hey, man,” he greets. “What’s up?”

“Hey. Is Justin with you?”

There’s a pause and Alex bites his lip. “No,” Zach answers, confused. “He isn’t with you?”

“I got back and he was gone. I usually wouldn’t be surprised, I’m not this time either really, but I’m,” Alex trails off, blowing out a breath. “I can’t get a hold of him and I just wanna make sure he’s okay.”

“Alex,” Zach starts hesitantly, “is there something wrong? I mean, I was with you, he couldn’t have been with me.”

Alex knows this, but he was kind of holding out hope anyway. Zach had been the least likely but most preferable option. Alex had hoped. “I thought maybe he could have waited for you or showed up after, or something. I don’t know.”

“He probably just went to Bryce’s man. It isn’t your problem. Whatever happened, Justin will get over it. And if he doesn’t, does it matter?”

“Yeah, Zach. It does,” Alex says immediately. “It’s fine. I’ll fix it myself.” Before Zach can respond, he hangs up.

He knows what his next option is, and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t have a choice, though. It’s Justin. Without letting himself think about it further, he starts driving to Bryce’s. 

This is most likely a terrible idea, and Alex is fully aware of it. He doesn’t like Bryce much (at all, he doesn’t like him at all) and he’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual, but he’s not going for Bryce, so he tries not to think about that. He doesn’t know what it is he is going to do though, has no particular plan for what happens when he gets there. If Justin is there, what is Alex going to do? Demand he comes back with him? Like that would do anything other than make him look like a joke.

No. He doesn’t have to do anything like that. He just needs to know Justin’s okay. He’ll stress way too much if he doesn’t, so he doesn’t care if he gets made fun of for it. He can take a few hits if it gives him peace of mind. 

When he gets there, he goes straight to the pool house, because he knows if Justin is here, that’s where he’ll be. He knocks on the door probably a little more aggressively than he needs to, but when he’s standing for a few minutes with no answer, he repeats the gesture even more harshly. 

The door swings open while his fist is still in the air and he drops it to his side hastily. Bryce stands there, looking unimpressed. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too,” Alex mutters under his breath. “Is Justin here?” 

Bryce crosses his arms. “No.” Alex hums, then slips in past him. His eyes flit around the room, searching. “Hey, you can’t just let yourself in.”

“You always tell us to let ourselves in ‘cause you’re not gonna answer the door every time one of us gets here,” Alex says easily, starting to frown as disappointment fills him. “He’s not here.”

“Like I fucking told you.”

“As if I was going to take your word for it,” Alex turns to him, voice dry. He probably shouldn’t take to riling up Bryce the way he is. It’s no secret they’re not exactly the best of friends, Alex being the butt of many of the other’s jokes and Alex openly expressing his dislike of Bryce purely due to the fact he’s a dick. Bryce is aggressive, definitely, but he never physically hurt Alex or anyone in their ‘group’, so Alex doesn’t feel all that bothered about being freer with his not-so-polite comments. Unlike some of the unluckier students at Liberty High, Alex isn’t scared of him. 

“Yeah, well you’ve seen for yourself now. The fuck does it matter to you where Justin is anyway?”

Alex considers him for a second. “Why doesn’t it matter to you?”

He doesn’t know what kind of answer he expects to this, but Bryce just rolls his eyes and walks past him, further into the house. “Justin can take care of himself. Get out of my house, Alex.”

Alex does so gladly, biting back any other words. He didn’t want Justin to be with Bryce, but now that he knows he isn’t he’s at least ten times more worried. The only other option is that the boy went home. 

He doesn’t want to be in any sort of proximity to Bryce, so he drives down the street before checking his phone again. It’s still void of notifications, and Alex slumps in his seat. Honestly, why does he care so much? Justin is capable of taking care of himself, he doesn’t need Alex chasing after him; doesn’t want it, and hasn’t given Alex any reason to do it. Justin Foley isn’t Alex’s problem. It should be that simple. 

But, it’s not. 

Maybe Alex really is just too soft, but he’s always cared a little more about Justin than the other has probably warranted. Alex is closer to Zach and Jeff, hell, probably even Clay and Tony, than he is to Justin. And Justin, Justin is close to Bryce. Zach comes after that, and after him, there isn’t really any more spots. Everyone else is either just lucky enough to be associated with him—like Alex—or not. 

They’re not exactly on each other’s speed dial, but there is a friendship there. They’ve had their moments, and Alex knows to some extent, in some vague Justin Foley way, that the other boy cares about him too. Justin’s been there for him before. Maybe that’s why he cares so much about this. He has to be there for Justin. 

He jumps when his phone starts ringing, heart lifting in his chest before he realises it’s his dad. He’s flooded with worry and anticipation and he crushes down the hope before it has the time to build. There’s so many reasons he could be calling. Justin answered his call and everything’s fine. Justin answered his call and something was wrong. Justin didn’t answer his call but he found him. Justin didn’t answer his call and he didn’t find him. Justin did or didn’t answer his call but he’s at their house/the station perfectly healthy and safe. Justin did or didn’t answer his call but is absolutely not okay to the point of severe injury or even death. 

Okay, that really isn’t helping and Alex should just answer the freaking phone. 

Alex’s way of greeting is, “Did you find him?”

His dad sounds a lot more distressed this time when he speaks, voice as tired and worried as Alex feels. “I was hoping you had. Still nothing?”

“No,” Alex deflates. “He’s not with any of the guys either. He must have gone home, Dad.”

Bill sighs. “That’s what I was worried about, but I had one of the guys go by the house. He wasn’t there. I still have him out looking, but so far there’s nothing.”

“Can you even do that?” Alex asks curiously. “He’s not a missing person until tomorrow.”

“Well, I did it anyway, and I called your mother. She’s finished her shift and at home in case he goes back. Don’t worry about it son. We’ll find him.”

Alex takes a breath and tries to convince himself of that, but he is worried. He closes his eyes, resting his head on the steering wheel again. “I’m going to keep looking. Tell me if you hear anything.”

“I will. Don’t do anything rash.”

Alex gives nothing more than an affirmative hum before he hangs up again. He drops his phone onto the passenger seat and starts driving again. He can take the route past his own house to Justin’s neighborhood, the most likely path for Justin to have taken if that’s where he’d went. He knows his mom is waiting if Justin goes back and his dad’s deputy is searching around his neighborhood but he probably doesn’t even know Justin and the addition of Alex’s eyes can’t hurt. 

He drives around for what feels like forever, going up and down back streets, the searcher in a fruitless game of hide and seek. He refuses to give up, no matter how much he wants to go home and take a nap. It’s evening now, gaining on six, and Alex knows that with it being mid October there’s barely a couple of hours left before it gets dark. He drives a little faster. 

He slows down again as he reaches Justin’s neighborhood. He still thinks this is the most likely place he would be, that he has to be, when he’s not anywhere else. He’s relieved Justin isn’t at home, but worried about what else that implies. Where the hell else is he?

The neighborhood is quiet, and Alex thinks that’s creepier than if there were groups of people doing illegal things on the doorsteps. Instead it’s silent and dead, and Alex feels likes there’s eyes looking at him from the broken windows. He wants to leave. 

He doesn’t even know which house is Justin’s. He’s only ever picked him up or dropped him off at the end of the street, and even those have been very rare occasions. It again reminds him of how little he actually knows Justin. He ignores the pang that thought causes and focuses on his surroundings. If Justin is here he has to make sure he finds him. He can’t miss anything. 

There’s nothing near any of the actual houses, which Alex sort of expected. He drives around the surrounding streets, trying to figure out where Justin would go to hide, if that’s what it is he’s doing. Maybe Justin is fine, is with friends Alex doesn’t know about, wouldn’t even think about wanting to go back with Alex. Friends Alex doesn’t know about can’t be very good ones, though, and he wishes he hadn’t even thought about this because it only again leads to Justin in trouble. What is Alex supposed to do if he finds him and Justin refuses to come back? Alex doesn’t have the strength to bring him by force. He could just tell his dad, he supposes. Worst comes to worst, he arrests Justin. He’d be safe in a holding cell, wouldn’t he?

Has Alex really come to this? They’re not going to arrest Justin. Jesus. 

He’s on the outskirts of the neighborhood when he sees it. There’s a rundown basketball court, the hoop rusted and netless, chain link fence jagged and broken through in places. None of that is what makes him stop, though. 

That, is the faded blue duffel bag he can make out off to the side. 

Alex doesn’t even have to think before getting out of the car and running towards it. It’s not until he gets a little closer that he’s able to see the form lying next to it, and now his heart’s definitely beating faster than it should be. Justin’s lying on the ground, the duffel bag discarded about a foot away from him, and he isn’t moving. 

“Justin?” Now Alex is panicking. Like, a lot. He drops to his knees next to him, repeating his name. He’s lying on his front, side of his face pressed to the ground, arms lying uselessly around his head which is turned towards Alex. His eyes are closed. “Fuck, Justin, are you okay? Wake up.” After watching Justin flinch away from him that first night, Alex has always been hesitant about touching him; careful, making sure Justin knows it’s coming and that he isn’t going to hurt him. Now, though, Justin already isn’t okay, is fucking unconscious in the middle of a basketball court in a bad neighborhood. 

He touches his face, first, fingers settling over his cheek, his neck, and he feels a steady pulse. A breath of relief rushes out of him and he runs his eyes over him, happy to see that he doesn’t appear to be hurt. There’s no blood or limbs bent at awkward angles. And he’s breathing—steady and even. Already Alex is freed of some of the worries he’d had just a few minutes ago. 

“Justin,” he shakes his shoulder. “Come on, wake up, Justin.” He slides an arm under him carefully and pulls him towards him, turning him over a little in the process. There’s gravel on his shirt and jeans, hair and face dusty, but he still looks uninjured. Alex pulls him up to lean against his shoulder, keeping an arm around his back as he pats at his cheek. “Justin.”

He receives a small groan and feels relief fill him again. Justin doesn’t make any kind of movement or open his eyes, but it’s enough right this second. “Hey, you’re okay, Jus. I’m gonna get you home, okay? You’re okay.”

Alex doesn’t really have any idea how he’s going to do that. Justin’s bigger than him, and Alex has little to no upper body strength. He sure if their positions were switched Justin would be able to just scoop him up in his arms or sling him over his shoulder, but neither of those are an option for Alex. The only thing he can do is lift one of Justin’s arms over his shoulders and hoist him to his feet. The other boy’s completely unconscious, and it means his feet are going to drag but it’s all Alex can do. 

His car isn’t too much of a distance away, thankfully, and with a tight grip on Justin he manages to get him there without too much struggle. Justin’s a complete deadweight, but he’s surprisingly light, and Alex wonders if it’s just because he imagined it would be more difficult. Yeah, Justin’s all nice and toned but he’s pretty skinny, so he supposes it’s not that surprising. 

It’s a little more awkward getting him into the actual passenger seat, but he manages. He lifts his feet in, makes sure his head’s supported somewhat comfortably against the seat, and buckles him in. He shuts the door and jogs back over for his bag, tossing it in the back seat before getting into the car himself. 

He looks at the boy next to him with a sigh. “What the hell did you do to yourself, Justin?” Obviously, his only answer is silence. He sighs again before pulling out his phone. 

His dad picks up right away, but before he can even say anything Alex announces, “I found him.”

“Oh, thank god,” Bill says. “I can do that right? He’s okay?”

Alex glances at him. “He’s….breathing normally.” There’s no reply from the other end so he continues, “I found him unconscious and he won’t wake up but he doesn’t look hurt? I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“You’re sure he’s not hurt?”

“Well, there’s no bumps or blood or visible bone, so,” he says drily, “it could be worse. I’ve got him in the car, I’ll bring him home.”

“Alright,” his dad agrees. “Your mother should be able to help. I’m done here now too, so I’ll meet you there.”

Alex relaxed. “Okay.”

~^~

He’s glad his dad’s there when he gets home, because he hadn’t even thought about how he would get Justin into the house. They settle him on the couch in the living room and leave Carolyn to it—Justin is still completely out. 

She hasn’t gotten to anything this serious with Alex, only shown him how to patch up some things, so he has no idea what she’s doing. She’s shining a light in his eyes when she turns back to Alex. “Do you know if he’s taken anything?”

Alex blinks. “I—what?”

“I do,” Alex hears his dad say from behind him where he’s—going through Justin’s bag. Of course. He holds up a small, clear bag. “Couple bottles of beer in here, too. Empty.” Alex closes his eyes. Of course. 

Carolyn sighs. “I should be doing a blood test. He should be in the hospital.”

“For some weed and a couple of drinks?” Alex gapes. “Worst he gets is a shitty hangover, Mom, seriously. There’s no way he’d want to be in the hospital.”

“He’s also badly dehydrated. He should be on a damn drip, Alex, he passed out on the street!” She actually sounds quite pissed, and Alex is tempted to just agree with her, but it’s Justin. Alex knows he won’t want that. 

“I know, okay, I was the one that found him, and I’m going to tell him what an idiot he is when he wakes up. But can’t you take care of him here? He’d freak if he woke up in the hospital. He’ll cooperate more if it’s just us, here. I know he will.”

His mom turns to him fully, hands on her hips. “He’s also completely exhausted and malnourished. Has he been eating lunch, breakfast?”

“I...He doesn’t eat lunch with me, and he’s always up before me and says he already ate.” Alex feels worry clench in his chest. He didn’t even think about the possibility that Justin was lying to him. “He’s probably exhausted because of the nightmares. I mean I am too, and he’s always up in the morning before me.”

“Well, I don’t know how we’re going to fix that,” Carolyn sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I think he should at least spend one night in.”

Alex turns on the pleading look. “He needs, rest and food. So we let him rest and force feed him when he wakes up. I mean, is a hospital bed and hospital food what you really think he needs?”

His mom looks at him for a minute. Then, “Fine. But we need to discuss things, between us now and with Justin when he wakes up.” Alex nods quickly, grateful. He hopes he’s doing the right thing. When Justin wakes up, Alex supposes he’ll answer that question. 

~^~

He sits backwards on his desk chair in his bedroom, chin resting on his folded arms. Justin lies tucked up on his bed, still unconscious. He hadn’t woken up once, even with all of Bill’s jostling of him when he carried him up the stairs. His chest is rising and falling steadily, and whenever Alex starts freaking out again he counts the breaths. 

Before they moved him, they’d had a ‘discussion’, at Carolyn’s command. She berated them both for not making sure he was eating enough and for not telling her about the nightmares. Alex used the defense that he thought Bill had. Bill, in turn, had interrogated Alex about the weed and beer, asking if Justin was a frequent user, if Alex had ever taken anything. Alex managed to convince him that he hadn’t and that it was ‘not even the problem here, Dad’. He’s sure Justin will have it worse when he wakes up. 

Bill had taken him up the stairs, and then Alex had been tasked with changing him. Alex had balked at that at first, and they reminded him Justin would probably prefer he do it than either of them. Alex wasn’t sure that was true, but he’d agreed anyway. Justin would have been uncomfortable in his jeans and he was getting dirt all over Alex’s sheets. There had been the problem, though, of most of the contents of Justin’s bag being soaked in alcohol. Meaning there wasn’t a single pair of sweatpants he could use. 

Meaning he was using Alex’s. 

The shirt? 

Also Alex’s. 

Alex only realised just how skinny Justin’s gotten when they fit him perfectly. It gave him that clench of worry again, and he had to force himself to stop thinking about it. The struggle of actually getting Justin’s useless limbs into them had been a good distraction. He’d tucked the blankets up over him then before dismantling the makeshift bed on the floor to drag his desk chair over in place of it. Then he situated himself there, looking at Justin, and he hasn’t moved. 

Well, okay. He’d gone to the bathroom to pee and get changed himself, but then he’d come right back. He wants to be here when Justin wakes up. 

He’s slightly conflicted on that topic; he wants him to wake up soon so he can be really sure he’s okay, but he also knows the main reason he collapsed was most likely pure exhaustion. He’s pretty sure Justin’s been lying to him about how much he’s been sleeping, too. He knows that whenever Justin does wake up, it’ll only really be for Alex’s mom to shove some food down his throat before he should go back to sleep. 

Justin makes a quiet noise—just a hitch in his breath. Alex notices his brow is pinched, the same way it was the first night Alex had woken up. He doesn’t make any more noises, though, just keeps the tense expression. Alex wants to help, but he doesn’t want to wake him this time. 

He hesitantly reaches out and settles a hand in Justin’s hair. He keeps his touch light as he cards his fingers through the strands, smoothing them back carefully. He picks up a consistent, what he hopes is soothing, rhythm. Justin’s face slowly relaxes, and he feels his lips quirk in a smile. 

His hair is unnaturally soft, and a little long. Alex kind of likes it that way though, fluffy and curling and almost princely. He thinks that might just be Justin’s face though. He could probably pull off any hairstyle. Either way, it’s nice to the touch, and Alex doesn’t really feel like it’s much different to petting a puppy. It’s exactly like that, he thinks, with Justin’s unconscious expression, soft and innocent. 

He shifts under Alex’s touch, eyes fluttering and Alex withdraws his hand quickly as they blink open. It’s the first time he’s seen Justin wake peacefully, and it makes a soft smile curve his lips. Justin takes a minute to focus on him, hand coming up to rub at his eyes before he winces and presses it to his head. “Alex?” 

Alex attempts to keep his tone as soft as his smile. “Hey, asshole. How you feeling?”

Justin blinks a few times before wincing again, grimacing. “Not that good.” His voice is nothing more than a croak, quiet and scratchy, and Alex lifts the glass of water he’d left on the bedside table. 

“Here, drink this.” Justin raises his head slowly, bracing his hand on the bed to push himself off. He makes it a few inches before Alex realises how much his arm is shaking. “Hey, wait,” Alex sets the glass back down again. He reaches out slowly to grab Justin’s arm, but it seems like the boy doesn’t even have the energy to flinch away. Alex helps guide him up, holding him there as he adjusts the pillows behind him before settling him back against them. He doesn’t even have to think before sliding a hand to the back of Justin’s head and bringing the water to his lips, letting him drink. 

Justin doesn’t even complain, doesn’t so much as give him an irritated look as he sips it, doesn’t angrily tell him he can do it himself. He can’t. How did he get this exhausted, without Alex even knowing? Is he really so unwell that he can’t even sit up himself, can’t hold his own glass? He was fine when Alex left him this morning. It must be just hitting him now, all at once, after he’s made himself worse, because he was fine earlier. Wasn’t he?

When he stops drinking—and Alex is satisfied that it’s enough for now—Alex lets him go and sets the glass back on the table. As soon as Alex’s supporting hand is gone Justin sinks back into the pillows, eyelids drooping. “What are you doing?” His voice is a little stronger now, a little more like Justin, and Alex relaxes some at it, even in his confusion at the question. 

He furrows his brow at him. “What do you mean?”

Justin blinks tiredly at him. He still looks so tired. “Why did you even come after me?”

Alex stares at him, lips parting to respond when his door opens. Carolyn comes in with two plates of food, eyes brightening as she sees Justin sitting up in the bed. “You’re awake.” The moment is short lived, though, her expression darkening again in an instant as she shoves the plates into Alex’s hands to place her own on her hips. “Care to explain?”

Justin looks at her with wide eyes. “I—what?”

“You think it’s acceptable to run off and get yourself into a state like that?”

Justin keeps looking at her for a minute before averting his gaze, eyes dropping to where his hands rest on the blanket. “Didn’t think anyone would care.” Alex’s heart pangs painfully. He can tell that Justin means it. 

Carolyn softens. “Justin, sweetheart.” She snatches up one of Alex’s pillows and hits him with it, making him jump and look up at her. “You idiot. You are exhausted, starved, and dehydrated, and you top it off with drugs and alcohol? Alex found you unconscious in the middle of the street. Are you aware of just what could have happened to you? If I had it my way, you’d be spending the night in the hospital.”

Alex sets one of the plates on Justin’s lap, the other on the table next to the glass of water. “I managed to talk her out of it. She still wanted to do a blood test. You’re lucky you’re not on a drip.” Justin rolls his head over to look at him, face still a mask of blank confusion. 

“I haven’t entirely ruled it out yet,” she warns. “Bill and I have shifts tomorrow again but Alex is staying here with you. You drink as much as he tells you, eat what he feeds you, and rest. Do you understand me?” Justin nods meekly. Alex feels for him. “I’m not going to give you the lecture on what we found in your bag because I know Bill’s just aching to, and after the lengths he and Alex went to for you today you deserve it.”

“Mom, come on,” Alex berates. He knows this is what she does when she’s worried, but Justin doesn’t. After the past few days, Alex bets he’s only taking it as him being the cause of some problem, again, when that’s not what it is at all. They would go to longer lengths for him if they have to. 

They don’t want to, though, and Justin is an idiot, so if this is what gets through to him maybe it doesn’t matter. 

Bill comes through the door then, too, and Justin sinks a little lower. Alex wants to comfort him. “I heard talking,” he explains. 

Carolyn nods, pointing at the plate on Justin’s lap. “Eat all of that before you sleep again. You too,” she directs at Alex, who gives her a mock thumbs up. She gives him a smile before leaving them to it. 

Bill settles himself at the end of the empty side of the bed with a sigh. “What were you thinking, kid?”

Justin shrugs, gaze on the plate of food this time. “I guess I wasn’t.” Alex shares a look with his dad. 

“You put yourself in a pretty dangerous situation. Why the hell did you let it get to that?”

“It wasn’t really something I chose, sir,” he looks up. Alex feels another pang. 

His dad, though, does not seem to share the sympathy problem. “You didn’t choose to take those drugs? Or drink those beers? Someone, force them down your throat then stash them in your bag?”

Justin shrinks a little. “No, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir, Justin,” Bill says, gentler. “But I don’t condone the drinking, and the weed or anything else you might take.” 

“I know. It just—it helps.”

“There are healthier things that can help, son. I don’t want to think about that kind of influence around Alex, either.” Alex rolls his eyes. “You really worried us, kid.”

Alex sees Justin’s eyes go a little misty. “Sorry, sir.” Bill gives him a look. “I mean—sorry.” He hesitates, “But, then why did you bring me back?”

Bill’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve just caused you problems. I—Alex doesn’t get as much sleep. You have to make extra food. Alex has to drive me to school.”

“Alex is right here and can speak for himself,” Alex says drily. They turn to look at him, Justin a little sheepishly and Bill fondly. Alex raises his brows at his dad, a silent, ‘you done?’ Bill nods, getting to his feet as he gives Justin a warm look. 

“I’ll leave you to it. Eat your food,” he orders. Justin just nods, and Alex salutes him. He catches the roll of his eyes before he closes the door. 

Alex turns to Justin, pointedly looking at the food in his lap. Justin rolls his eyes. “So your what, my babysitter now?”

“Yup,” Alex pops the p, standing up to turn the chair around before plopping back down in it and grabbing his own food. “You need me to feed you?”

“Fuck off,” Justin mumbles, but he starts eating. After a few slow bites, he’s scarfing it down, and Alex watches in satisfaction. 

“I didn’t know,” Alex says quietly after a minute. Justin looks up at him. “How bad it was. Why didn’t you tell me you were so exhausted?”

Justin’s shoulders sag. “You were already losing sleep because of me. I wasn’t going to make you stay up with me like a baby.”

Alex considers him for a second. “You were pretending, weren’t you?”

“When I realised you really stayed up with me the first time, I pretended to go back to sleep so you would,” he admits. 

“Jesus, Justin. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.”

“Why do you?” Justin asks quickly. “What do you want from me?”

Alex pauses, staring. “What?”

“Why are you doing all of this? You didn’t want me here in the first place, so why did you come looking for me? Why do you even care?”

There’s a slight crack in his voice at the last few words, and Alex doesn’t feel the pang this time. It’s just a full on ache. “I care about you, Justin. Of course I want you here. What I said this morning, it was stupid, and I didn’t mean it like that. I brought you back coffee to apologize.”

“....You did?” Justin’s wearing the same puppy expression he was when Alex was doing his stitches. It pulls at all the icky, soft parts of Alex’s heart and he would roll his eyes at himself if Justin wasn’t looking at him. 

“Yeah. I did. I felt like shit when I came back and you weren’t here. I thought that I was overreacting, and that you’d just got tired of me and gone to Bryce’s. Then you weren’t there, and you weren’t even at your house, and you wouldn’t answer your goddamn phone. I mean, I was kinda worried you’d gone to either and then you weren’t and that was worse and then I did find you….and you were just lying there.”

Justin doesn’t even seem to be paying attention. “You went to Bryce’s? What the fuck Alex?”

“It was the first place I thought you’d go and it’s not like I could have just called him and had a nice conversation. What’s the big deal?” Alex’s brow furrows. 

“I...Nothing. I just don’t get why you came after me.”

“Justin,” Alex says softly. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, and I don’t really understand why you won’t tell me, and I know I can’t make you. But I want to help, somehow. Even if that’s just staying up with you and force feeding you.”

Justin shakes his head. “No one would just want to help me without asking anything in return.”

“Seriously?” Alex asks quietly. Does Justin really think that? Alex was under the impression that that’s what Bryce does, is why they’re so close. That he takes care of Justin. He didn’t consider the possibility that Bryce looked for something in return, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind now. “Is that what’s going on? Pretending to sleep, not eating, so you won’t owe us anything?”

Justin crumples. “I don’t have anything to give.”

Alex sets his empty plate on the table so he can lean closer to him. “Justin, hey, you don’t have to give us anything. We don’t wanna help so you have to pay us back. My parents are just...freakishly nice people. And I guess I get it from them,” he smirks, and it earns him a roll of eyes. He softens again to add, “I don’t know why you feel like that, but I can tell you it’s sucks and that’s not what I’m doing. I know you probably don’t believe me, but you just have to trust me. I get that that can’t be easy either but I want to at least try to earn it. Can you let me do that?”

The other boy stares at him, expression so carefully blank and vulnerable at the same time that Alex’s heart breaks a little. Then, he nods. “Okay,” he whispers. 

“Okay,” Alex grins. Justin gives him a little smile in return, and it’s weak but Alex still cheers internally. It’s something. 

He takes Justin’s empty plate and leaves it on top of his own, mind doing another silent cheer. Justin looks down at himself suddenly, then back up at Alex. “These aren’t my clothes.”

Alex stiffens. “Uhm, no. Some beer spilled in your bag so Mom’s washing them all. Those are mine. Is that, okay?”

“How did I get into them?” Justin asks slowly. He looks up at Alex, horrified. “Please tell me it wasn’t either of your parents.”

“It wasn’t! It was me. Sorry if that’s like, really weird but we didn’t want you to be uncomfortable even though that probably makes you more uncomfortable and—“

“Alex,” Justin cuts him off, smiling again. “It doesn’t. Honesty, it’s cool. Thank you.”

Alex smiles back, a little shyer than before. “You should get some sleep.” 

“You took away my bed, though.”

Alex blinks at him. “There’s obviously no way you’re sleeping on the floor.” Alex thinks it would be obvious he was going to be sleeping right where he is, considering he couldn’t even sit up himself after collapsing from exhaustion and a bunch of other problems. 

Justin stares at him. “You have to sleep too.”

Alex hesitates. “I can go sleep in Peter’s room, if you want.” He immediately sees the panic set in in Justin and backtracks soothingly. “Hey, I was just asking. I’ll stay in here. I can sleep on the floor, I can even sleep on this chair if you want me to.”

He waits, and Justin looks like he’s struggling. Alex gazes at him questioningly before asking, quietly, “Or...do you want me to stay with you?”

Justin sounds so small, his voice nothing more than a whisper, when he asks, “Will you?”

Alex moves to turn the light off without a word, sliding into his normal side of the bed, next to Justin. Justin shuffles, and he helps him readjust the pillows until he’s lying down again. He curls onto his side, facing Alex. 

They lie silently for a few moments, Justin watching Alex consideringly. “You really want me here?” 

“Of course,” Alex says immediately. “It’s just like, having a brother that’s actually here.”

Justin makes a short sound, a humorless laugh. “Bryce always calls me brother.”

Alex backtracks, again. “Yeah, okay, brother isn’t a good choice of word, you’re nothing like Peter.” It’s true. Alex could think of Zach and Jeff as brothers, possibly, but not Justin. Something about that in relation to him just feels wrong. 

Justin smiles slightly. “You’re nothing like Bryce.”

“Thank god,” Alex says automatically, but Justin laughs. Alex really likes that sound. 

They’re quiet for another while before the atmosphere seems to shift. Justin’s biting his lip, and Alex reminds himself not to push. 

“I was trying to take some money. I didn’t have any of my own left and there wasn’t any food. I was just going to take a twenty for dinner. I didn’t think he was coming back, but he caught me.”

Alex realises very quickly that this is important, and he needs to tread carefully. He keeps his tone quiet and gentle. “Your mom’s boyfriend?”

Justin nods, and Alex can barely see it in the dark. “He was drunk, like he always is. He started shouting at me first, and I shouted back, so he threw the bottle.” Justin repeats the little humorless sound, and Alex can just see his eyes watering. “I ducked but it—it smashed against the wall and I guess one of the pieces just fell right for him. Then he said I owed him a beer, and he left me on the floor.”

The tears are running down his cheeks silently now, and Alex’s own throat feels tight. When was the last time someone gave this boy a hug? He wants desperately to reach out and offer comfort, but he stops. He doesn’t know what Justin wants, and he senses he isn’t done. 

“I knew it was going to happen. It’s normal. Your dad found me like that, just fucking crying on the floor. And he took me here. Didn’t tell me how pathetic I was, or make me tell him anything.”

“Because you’re not pathetic, Jus,” Alex insists. Justin just sniffles. “What can I do?” Alex asks quietly. 

Justin doesn’t say anything. Alex feels fingers brush against his own, and he grips them tightly. The ache in his chest eases when he sees Justin relax, feels his palm press firmly against his. He shifts a little closer and lets out a shaky, “Thank you.”

Alex squeezes his hand. It’s different, with the contact, and Alex trusts it when his breathing slows. He squeezes his hand once more, lightly, before following him to sleep.


	5. It's Been a While

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!! It really wasn't supposed to. The chapter itself is quite a bit longer to make up for it :)

_Everywhere I’m looking now_  
_I’m surrounded by your embrace_  
 _Baby I can see your halo_  
 _You know you’re my saving grace_

~^~

Alex wakes first. It’s like the morning before; sunlight streams through the window, and he actually feels rested. There’s one stark difference though, and it’s made immediately obvious by the pressure and warmth in his hand.

Justin lies next to him, still sleeping. His lips are slightly parted, small, even breaths escaping through them. His eyes are shut, dark eyelashes splayed over his cheeks. There isn’t a hint of concern in his face. It’s entirely peaceful, his whole form, no pinched lips or furrowed brows or tense shoulders. His hand is gripping Alex’s lightly—holding on, but not clinging.

It’s the first night he’s slept through here.

Alex knows it’s most likely the exhaustion catching up to him. He’s missed out on so much sleep, it was eventually bound to take over, his body crashing. That’s what had happened yesterday, after all, everything building up and dragging Justin under. Except when Alex found him then, he was terrified. Now, he knows it’s just much needed sleep. That he’ll wake up, possibly grumpy and irritated and with a headache, but he’ll wake up. Safe, right here with Alex.

He knows it’s the exhaustion, but Alex can’t help but wonder if he’s a factor, too. He brushes his thumb over the back of Justin’s hand, carefully, then does it again. He picks up a light, steady movement, and Justin’s fingers tighten around his, his body curling slightly towards him.

This is a Justin state Alex had never seen until yesterday. He’s never, in all his time knowing him, seen Justin look this peaceful and innocent. Even when Alex had watched him go back to sleep, there was always an underlying tension to his features. He knows now it’s because Justin wasn’t even sleeping.

It makes him think he should have known, should have realised what Justin was doing. Faking. The sleep is bad enough—Alex definitely should have figured out that he wasn’t eating. Jesus, he hadn’t been eating. He was slowly falling away to nothing and Alex hadn’t even fucking noticed. No one had.

Alex makes a silent vow to take better care of him, and make Justin realise he deserves it in the process.

He lies there for another while with him, waiting, in case he actually is a factor. Eventually, Justin starts to shift about, eyes slitting open sleepily for a moment before they settle on Alex. He blinks, then, and says, “Hey.” His voice is raspy and sleep-coated, low and pleasant and Alex wasn’t really prepared for it. Nothing should be able to sound that appealing in the space of one short word, but this is Justin Foley, so Alex isn’t really surprised.

“Hey,” Alex says back. It isn’t as good. He doesn’t sound sexy. He is, again, not surprised.

Justin is in the process of smushing his face back into the pillow. He’s still holding Alex’s hand. He brings the other up to rub at his eyes, face scrunching slightly. His stitches wrinkle. Alex simply watches him, because he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. For now, he thinks Justin wants him here, so here he’ll stay. “What time is it?” Justin asks, tone still the same, sleepy, lovely.

“Uhm.” Alex twists slightly, arm reaching behind him to find his phone, almost knocking it off the little cabinet. He saves it, just, and looks at the screen. “Just before ten.”

Justin blinks again. “I feel like shit.”

Alex gives him a blank look. “That’s probably the alcohol, weed, hunger, dehydration, exhaustion, and collapsing on the street catching up to you. Really, though, it shouldn’t be that bad, can’t you just shake it off?” He waits for Justin to kick him, or roll his eyes, or tell him to fuck off. Instead, he shrinks into himself, and Alex’s chest squeezes. He tugs the other’s hand lightly, and Justin looks down in the general direction of it in surprise, apparently not having noticed the connection. Alex doesn’t know what to think of that. “I’m kidding. I’m not surprised you feel like shit, and you definitely should not shake anything because you already smell.”

This, finally, earns a light kick and a huff. “Fuck you, Standall.”

“I’m serious,” Alex smiles slightly. “It’s bad. Did you spill beer on yourself or something? You need to fucking shower.”

Justin makes a noise somewhere between a grumble and a groan and says, “‘n a minute.”

Alex’s smile widens, and he settles more into his own pillow and watches him. His eyes have slipped closed again, but his expression is all troubled now. Brow scrunched, mouth closed, eyes tight. Alex imagines there’s a headache and a plethora of other aches causing it.

Justin peeks an eye open at him. “You don’t….you don’t have to stay with me.”

Alex’s immediate instinct is to respond with sarcasm, with joking, but something tamps it down. That keeps Justin calm, maybe. Keeps them on good, level ground. Familiar ground. But it isn’t really moving them forward. Alex keeps giving him easy ways out—he isn’t pushing him to give anything up, for anything to change. He wants to move forward. “No,” he says. “But I want to.”

Justin, well. Justin doesn’t seem to expect that. He opens both eyes to look at Alex, before they flick away. His hand shifts in Alex’s, but doesn’t leave it, turning and locking as he taps his fingertips against Alex’s knuckles.

“I really am sorry. About yesterday.” His eyes lie somewhere around Alex’s collarbones. Alex tries not to feel scrutinized by it. He’s aware it’s not meant to be scrutinizing.

Alex keeps his voice quiet, even though he’s not keeping it from anything. But Justin had spoken quietly, and the air feels quiet, and Alex worries if his voice is an octave too loud he’ll break something in it. This is another moment that feels important. He doesn’t want to break it. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but I get it. In a way I’m glad you did it, because I know to actually worry about it now.”

Justin winces. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“Then you were really dumb, yesterday.”

“I’m apologising. I know I fucked up, okay? I just didn’t think anyone would care.”

“And that was the dumbest part,” Alex informs him. Justin ducks his head again, and Alex squeezes his hand. He doesn’t know what else he could say, if he should say anything else, and Justin seems to be in the same predicament. They lie in silence instead, and Alex thinks about the feel of Justin’s fingers tracing his knuckles. He doesn’t imagine it feels any different to how it would if it was anyone else, but he can’t recall having the exact knowledge to confirm that. Which says enough, in a way, he realises, because he’s sure he would recall this feeling.

“I don’t want a babysitter, Alex. I don’t want to be your job, or your project, or whatever the fuck this is. I can’t—I won’t owe you. I’m not gonna be some burden or some problem you have to solve.”

“Jesus, Justin,” Alex sighs. “Can I not just be for your friend? Can I not just help you because I fucking want to? Like, I’m sorry that I don’t want to go looking for you next time and find you dead. You won’t owe me anything if you just fucking take care of yourself like I’m asking you to. That’s all I’m asking.”

Justin’s lip trembles. “It’s hard for me,” he admits quietly. “To believe that that’s all you want.”

Alex softens. “I know, Justin. I’m not going to ask anything of you that you don’t want to give. Well, I mean more that I always will ask you, and you can always say no. If I’m being annoying, or pushing you too far, or anything, you can tell me to fuck off. I won’t hold it against you, or anything. But if I knew I could help you, and I didn’t do anything, the guilt would kill me. Do you understand? That’s enough payment. Just let me help.”

He’s practically pleading, because it’s true. The guilt would kill him. He can’t stand the thought of anything happening to Justin that he could prevent. He can’t stand the thought of anything happening to Justin at all.

It takes a quiet moment, but Justin says, hesitant, “You can cook something better than toast, right?”

Alex grins, wide and relieved. “I’ll do breakfast while you take a damn shower.”

Justin kicks him again, and this is familiar. This Alex is used to, is comfortable with. Then Justin pulls his hand from his and rolls out of the bed, and Alex’s smile flickers, because he’d been getting used to that too very quickly, and it was ripped away from him even quicker. It’s stupid, but he wants to pout about it. He doesn’t.

Justin pauses when he’s standing, looking at the ground in front of him like he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. His lips part then, remembering. He looks back at Alex where he still hasn’t moved from his place on the bed, and bites his lip.

Before he asks, Alex gives him a soft smile. “You can take what you want, Justin. It’s no big deal.”

Justin purses his lips at this, and Alex wonders if this doubting everything he says is going to become a permanent thing now. He doesn’t want to walk on eggshells around Justin. He’s sure Justin would notice, and he’s not sure he’s capable of it in the first place. Alex is good with his words when he tries to be, but he’s also known for having a short fuse and a useless filter. He’s never thought of it as that much of a problem before now.

He’s rethinking them now, lips silently shaping around words he can’t find, but Justin straightens his shoulders and strides to Alex’s wardrobe. Alex tries not to think of how much of a mess it probably is, and drags himself out of bed instead.

“I’ll have your food ready in the kitchen,” he tells Justin, out of the door before he hears a response.

He hears the shower start after a few minutes. He’s not the greatest chef, but he’s sufficient enough to make them eggs and bacon. He does, still, make a few slices of toast. He’s just sat down and started into it when Justin pads into the kitchen.

He’s dressed in a pair of Alex’s sweatpants, black fabric that loosely hugs the shape of his legs from his hips to his ankles. As skinny as he’s gotten, he still seems to fill them out better than Alex, they still seem to cling a little tighter to his thighs. He’s also wearing one of the few jumpers Alex owns, a deep green colour that makes his eyes startlingly bright.

Alex’s hand hovers in the air, halfway between his plate and his mouth where it had frozen. Jesus. Justin Foley is, once again, in his clothes. Looking like that in his clothes.

This is weird.

It is weird, isn’t it? Justin wearing his clothes? But it’s normal for friends to wear each other’s clothes, isn’t it? Except, he and Justin aren’t friends. But, isn’t Alex the one who keeps claiming they are?

Maybe it shouldn’t be weird. It feels weird.

That’s not the only thing that looks off, and it takes Alex a moment to figure out what it is—his stitches have dissolved. There’s quite an angry red gash left in their place, and something in Alex twists painfully at the sight of it.

Justin settles onto the stool across from him and smiles at the plate. Then he directs it up at Alex, who can’t help but return it instantly. Now that he knows how rare it is, he feels constantly gratified by it, is enamoured anytime it’s given. He knows how precious it is, because he’s sure it’ll only be a matter of minutes—possibly seconds—before he ruins it again.

“This is definitely better than anything I could do,” Justin states.

Alex grins. “It’s a little more than toast, yeah.”

Justin sticks out his tongue, and it’s such a childish gesture that Alex’s grin widens. Alex just keeps smiling at him for a moment as he starts eating before he realises what he’s doing and quickly returns to his own food.

“Your stitches are off,” Alex points out after a minute, pointlessly. Justin looks at him. “I can clean it again for you and everything. If you want,” he adds quickly.

“I can do it myself, it’s okay.”

Alex scoffs. “Yes because clearly, you’re great at taking care of yourself.”

He realises immediately that it was the wrong thing to say when Justin drops his gaze, face pulling tight as he stabs a little too harshly at his food. Alex would punch himself if he could, honestly. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Okay.”

Alex bites his lip to stop himself from replying too quickly and saying the wrong thing, again. He finds it much too easy to bite back, a natural reflex, and he knows he’s going to have to teach himself out of the habit somehow. He wants to apologise, but he doesn’t think it would help, so he doesn’t bother. He isn’t even entirely sure what he’d be apologising for, at this point.

“I have to shower,” is what he says instead, but he doesn’t move from his seat.

“So shower,” Justin mumbles. He’s still stabbing his food. When Alex keeps sitting there, he looks up at him with a half roll of his eyes. “I’m not going to run away.” Alex simply raises a brow. This seems to frustrate Justin more. “Either you trust me and go or you smell. Or do you want me to come watch you?”

Alex does not. He doesn’t even want to dignify that by saying this out loud. He gives him an unimpressed look, which Justin responds to with a raise of his brows and a wave of his hand. A, ‘ _See? Go on then_ ’.

He keeps watching him for a minute, debating, then remembers his promise not to be completely overbearing. He can’t be with Justin all the time, he knows that. It just isn’t realistic. He’s going to have to shower at some point.

He just doesn’t particularly want to leave Justin right this moment. He knows he’s messed up, and they’re suddenly not-okay again, and he needs to fix it before doing anything else. But he doesn’t know how, and he thinks anything he could do right now would make it worse. Going for a shower will give him time to think and Justin time to forgive him.

“Eat all of that,” Alex orders on his way out.

He doesn’t think about the weirdness of thinking about Justin Foley while he’s in the shower until he’s thinking about Justin Foley in the shower. It hits him abruptly, this thought, because he isn’t ‘thinking about Justin Foley in the shower’ like it sounds, and then with that thought he suddenly is and then he has to think about the photos of a stab victim he once accidentally (and regretfully) saw over his father’s shoulder.

By the time he gets out, he is sufficiently disturbed and no further forward on how he should apologise.

When he gets back to the kitchen, Justin is setting his plate next to the sink. He doesn’t look at Alex when he enters, but his hand clenches a little around the plate before he lets it go.

Alex doesn’t have to think, is suddenly moving without trying, his body knowing before his mind. He stops next to Justin, and he’s very careful with the hand he lays on his wrist. Justin looks up at him, that same puppy look from under his eyelashes, and Alex is abruptly reminded of how young he is. Painfully so, even younger than Alex himself, and already endured more than Alex wants to think about.

It makes him more sure in what he’s doing and he pulls gently where he holds Justin’s wrist until the boy turns towards him. He runs his hand up Justin’s arm; over the bump of his elbow, onto his shoulder, around the back of his neck. He tugs Justin towards him at the same time as he steps forward, and wraps him up in a hug.

The hand settled on Justin’s neck guides his head until it’s tucked into Alex’s shoulder as the other slides carefully across his back, splayed in the small of it. Both touches are light; he makes sure to keep them that way. This is only a good thing if Justin accepts it himself, if he’s the one that wants it. Alex would never take away his choice. He tries to prove it here.

Justin stands very still, his breaths short and sharp—scared. Alex doesn’t think it’s of him, though, not really. He very hesitantly tightens his grip, pulls Justin that bit closer, makes it a little more of a real hug.

Quickly, as if he’s worried he’ll change his mind—or Alex will, Alex can’t be sure—Justin hugs him back. His arms wrap very tightly around his waist and his breath hitches for a beat. Then Alex squeezes, and it evens out.

Justin presses his face into the crook of Alex’s neck, breathes fanning over the skin above Alex’s collar. His hands press against Alex’s back, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. Alex runs his hand up into the other’s hair slowly and hears the louder woosh of Justin’s exhale. He cards his fingers through the strands, just once carefully to test it, and does it again when Justin presses closer.

This is the closest he’s ever been to Justin. He’d thought holding his hand last night had been strangely intimate, overly so because of its purpose, its meaning. He didn’t think there would be anything that would feel more than that with Justin. A simple hug wouldn’t have. This does.

But this is completely, really, close. Pressed together, gripping each other, all in gentle and careful comfort. Alex has never been this careful with anyone. He’s never been this vulnerable himself, this sincere. It’s a strange feeling, and a strange one to experience with Justin Foley of all people.

Lost in these thoughts, he misses the dampness at his neck until there’s a shuddering breath from Justin. He notices it then and feels that ache again, the one that comes with feeling pain for someone else, pain that you can’t take away.

“Hey,” Alex soothes, “it’s okay. I’m sorry. You’re okay.” He squeezes him tighter, is answered with another shuddering breath. He starts swaying them side to side, slow and easy. He’s still brushing his hand through Justin’s hair. Justin still seems to be appreciating it. He sways them a little more dramatically and the shuddering breaths turn into a shuddering laugh. Still, they don’t let go.

Alex thinks about when he was wondering if anyone had given Justin a hug recently. He’s now pretty sure no one has. He thinks he’ll be happy enough to remedy that.

If it’s something that’ll help Justin, it’s definitely something he can supply. With Hannah and Jessica, he’s not entirely lacking in hugs himself, but he’s not as often on the receiving end of them as they are with each other. He’s not as lacking as Justin, but he doesn’t exactly have an abundance. And hugging Justin….well, it’s nice.

It can’t last forever, though. When Justin’s fully relaxed in his arms, he lets them stay there for another few moments before taking a step back. A bubble of something floats from Alex’s stomach up into his chest when Justin seems to look disappointed and he pushes it down forcefully, before it can burst. He only retreats far enough to bring his hands to Justin’s face and rub his thumbs over the tear tracks left on his cheeks.

Justin stares at him as he does, almost dazed. Alex smiles softly and lets his hands fall to Justin’s shoulder. It seems to snap him out of it, his neck flushing a soft pink as he mumbles, “Sorry.”

Alex shakes his head, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Don’t be. Seriously.” Eventually, Justin gives a tiny smile back, and Alex squeezes his shoulders again before letting go. “Now let me fix your face.”

Justin scoffs, but he sits down again anyway. Alex has to leave him there to go get the first aid kit, which he should’ve brought down from the bathroom in the first place. It’s almost better that he didn’t, because he’s given a minute to compose himself, even though he hadn’t realised he’d become uncomposed. It feels like something shifted, just now, between them. That, in some way, their relationship is slightly different than before. Alex doesn’t really know what way, he just feels it.

He goes back down to the kitchen and finds Justin staring at nothing, wearing a sombre expression. Alex doesn’t say anything to bring him out of it, only brings the box to the counter and sets it down. Justin’s eyeline is somewhere along Alex’s chest, but he’s not looking at it so much as looking through it.

Alex raises a careful hand to his unharmed cheek, touches it lightly. Justin’s eyes blink, flick up to him. Awake. “Why did you do that?” Justin asks.

Alex opens the box as his brow furrows. “Do what?”

Justin makes a vague gesture.

It takes a minute, then Alex’s brows shoot to his hairline. “Are you asking why I hugged you?” Justin purses his lips. Alex realises this is another important moment. That can either be brushed away and let them fall back to where they were before, or that can be nudged carefully forward. Alex, clumsy as a child, has always been good at falling. He’s sometimes terrible at being careful. He tries anyway. “I thought you might need it. And I guess I wanted to.”

Justin blinks, stares. Alex freezes. Was that not an acceptable answer.

Then Justin says, very quietly, “Thank you.”

His smile is nothing like his tone. His smile is so much louder. Alex notes that it’s absolutely beautiful, and it’s much easier to deal with it than with the sadness. It’s a much more fitting expression for Justin’s face. Beauty with beauty.

Then again, there’s something beautiful in Justin’s sadness too. Something innocent and open and vulnerable in the pain. Something hopeful.

Alex wants to hug him again. Multiple times.

Instead he takes some antiseptic and a cotton pad from the box and begins carefully cleaning the boy’s cheek. It’s not as terrible as it was when he’d first done this, not as worrying. It’s closed now, at least, just a little angry redness left behind. Alex thinks it may scar—it doesn’t look like something that could ever disappear completely. It pricks at his heart until he stops thinking about it.

“Tell me about something,” Justin says suddenly.

“What?”

“Anything. About you. I think it’s only fair I should know something a little secret.”

Alex supposes it would be. He thinks about it, but he doesn’t really have anything secret to tell. Everyone knows he likes music, that he plays it—he’s in the jazz band. His dad’s a cop, his mom’s a nurse. His brother’s at college on a football scholarship their dad wanted more than he did. It’s plain and boring and there isn’t much to tell.

“I…don’t really have anything. I’m honestly just really boring.”

Justin regards him for a moment before shaking his head slightly, careful not to interrupt Alex too much where he’s still dabbing at his cheek. “I think that’s bullshit.”

Alex silently begs his cheeks not to colour, but he can’t stop his lips from curling up slightly. “Why?”

Justin shrugs. “I find you pretty interesting.”

This does make him flush, but he finds he doesn’t care much. He’s not complimented all that often, isn’t even sure if that’s what this is, but it feels like it. It feels nice, and he lets himself enjoy it. He’s been flirted with, knows he isn’t exactly uninteresting and he’s not particularly bad-looking, but that feels empty compared to this. Meaningless. Superficial. He doesn’t think Justin Foley could ever be any of those things. Not now that he’s starting to know him.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Alex says, “because I really can’t think of anything to tell you.”

He drops the cotton pad next to the box and examines some of its contents again before lifting out a cream. It’s more for soothing than anything, so Alex is at least sure it won’t do any harm. It might make it a little less angry. He waves it at Justin questioningly, and he only shrugs. Alex shrugs too and twists the top off.

“There must be something,” Justin prods. “Embarrassing moment, childhood story?”

Alex thinks about it as he dabs the cream along the mark. “We had a fish once when I was younger,” he finally decides. “A Nemo one. I would sit for hours watching it even though half the time it didn’t even move. I always thought he was lonely, and how dogs and cats and everything can be single pets because they have their owners. They get affection from them. They get petted. Me, being young and dumb, decided I had to pet it. But obviously, I had to take it out of the water. It died in my hand.”

Justin stares at him, open mouthed. Horrified. “That sounds traumatising,” he says eventually.

“It was,” Alex agrees. “Does that make us even?” Justin hums. A maybe. “Next time you want an anecdote can I just hug you again instead? Or is that even more disturbing?”

He’s smiling, though. Justin punches his shoulder, but he’s grinning too. Alex re-caps the cream. There’s a foamy white line along Justin’s cheek, blotting out the red. It’s a little funny looking. Alex doesn’t bother pretending it isn’t.

Justin scoffs at his smirk, shoving his shoulder again. “You’re a shitty fucking nurse. You just want to make your patients look ridiculous so you can laugh at them.”

“You don’t look ridiculous,” Alex brushes him off. It’s true. It’s a little funny, sure, but Justin could never look ridiculous. Even with a ridiculous line of cream down his face, he only looks ridiculously good. Alex resents it.

He drops the cream back in the box and tosses the cotton pad from before in the bin. He heads back upstairs with the box, promising Justin he’ll be back in a second. He realises he needs to pee when he’s up there and takes a little longer than a second. As he starts back down the stairs, he hears voices.

Plural.

He’d definitely only left one.

He quickens his pace, jogging down the steps. When he gets to the bottom, he finds Justin’s back, in the way of the open front door. Alex steps up next to him, peering around his shoulder, and his eyes land on Hannah and Jessica.

They’re staring at Justin, practically unblinking, lips slightly parted. Justin’s looking back at them a little nervously, fidgeting on his feet. None of them are saying a word.

Alex stares at his friends for another minute, blankly, before he remembers. “We planned this a while ago.”

They nod wordlessly.

Justin glances over at him, eyebrows raising. Alex gives him a sheepish smile. They’d made the plans before Justin even started staying here; obviously, it had completely slipped Alex’s mind. He’s had a little more going on.

He realises Justin’s silently asking if this means Alex wants him to leave—if he’s being, even only momentarily, kicked out. Alex is offended at the mere suggestion of it. He doesn’t give a verbal answer, because Justin didn’t present a verbal question. Instead he lays a light hand on Justin’s shoulder and guides him back enough to let the girls in.

They have to drag their eyes away from him to actually enter and do so regretfully. Alex feels a little smug—he’s able to look at Justin pretty much whenever he wants, and he’s only now realising that isn’t exactly common. Justin’s one of the rarities at Liberty, one of the few people that are almost untouchable that everyone wants to touch. Alex realises how many of these notions of a godlike Justin Foley are being destroyed in his mind, more and more.

Justin pushes the door shut as the girls return to staring at him, and then they’re all just standing in the hallway. Justin notices their gazes and shuffles a little bit again and Alex decides this is weird and has gone on long enough.

“Did you guys just want to stand here, or…?” He’s glad this makes them snap out of it, and they both give him sheepish smiles before making their own way to the sitting room. Alex turns to Justin quickly and lowers his voice. “I completely forgot they were coming. Is it…okay?”

Justin just smiles reassuringly. “Of course it is. Hannah and Jessica are cool. I mean, you don’t—you’re okay with me staying?”

It’s only with this quiet, hesitant tone that Alex realises how tired he is. The shower possibly helped, but it’s likely Justin still has one hell of a hangover. He kind of looks like shit, or as much like shit as someone like Justin Foley can look. He also looks nervous, his shoulders all tense under the wrongly baggy fabric of Alex’s jumper. He looks small and sad and tired and very much like the puppy side of him. Nothing like the prince he can otherwise be. Alex finds he’s equally fond of both, though he prefers seeing Justin healthy.

He only answers him with a simple, “Come on, Foley,” and an arm thrown over his shoulder. Justin relaxes instantly, that wider, softer smile back on his lips. He lets Alex guide him into the room after the girls and Alex thinks his smile dims slightly when he retracts his arm before they get there. He brushes the thought away when it’s back in full force as Justin drops onto the couch and strikes up a conversation with the two of them easily.

Alex settles in the armchair, watches Justin rub his eyes a few times, and gets back up again. He mumbles that he’ll be back in a minute and isn’t sure if any of them are listening.

He comes back with a glass of water and a couple of painkillers and immediately holds both objects out to Justin. Justin looks at them, then up at Alex, giving a grateful smile when the blonde nods. He watches Justin swallow them down along with half the contents of the glass before he’s satisfied.

“You could have asked, you know,” he points out to Justin as he drops back into the armchair. Justin just shrugs, takes another sip of water.

Jessica, though, braces her elbow on her knee and her chin on her fist with curiosity. “Are you sick?”

Justin looks up at her, opens his mouth, and takes seconds too long to answer. So Alex says, “Hungover.” Justin grins, and Alex rolls his eyes back, because of course he’ll indulge him. Justin’s comfort is essential right now, and if it means Alex has to sell a few white lies to his friends it’s not much of a price to pay. They wouldn’t care. They’ll never know anyway.

“You were drunk, here? Brave move,” Hannah raises her brows.

Justin catches Alex’s eyes again. Alex doesn’t want to formulate an actual lie for him, but he doesn’t want to rat him out either. He’s not going to answer this one for him—it’s Justin’s choice.

“I wasn’t. Uhm, here. I did get really fucking pissed though,” he laughs. It isn’t real. Alex knows that now, finds it so obvious, that he’s surprised the girls don’t realise until he remembers. The Justin they know would laugh, here. His outward mood shifts quite abruptly, though, a closer representation of what’s going on inside, as he says, “It was kinda dumb, actually. It was really dumb. They’re being really cool about me staying here and I could have really fucked it up if Alex hadn’t saved my ass.”

Alex hears it for what it is; a silent but earnest apology. A thank you. A reassurement—his way of saying ‘we’re good’ and meaning it. He expects the others to ask here, to question ‘why are you staying here?’ But there’s a weird atmosphere in the room, and they seem to realise some significance to what and how much Justin has said already. They sit silently, and Alex tries to think desperately of something to say. He would rather play it off this time, when there’s others, when it’s not just Justin. He thinks, if it was just Justin, this would be another one of these moments he couldn’t let go of by brushing it off. That he would have to give an equally honest response to, because it would be the only way of moving it forward.

Before he can say anything, he notices Justin’s shivers, and instead of anything he should have said what comes out is, “Do you want a blanket?”

Justin looks embarrassed, then relieved, but it all flickers over his face in a split second before it’s masked with a charming smile. “That’s a good idea, actually.” Alex starts to get up, and he quickly adds, “I know where they are, I can get it. Do any of you want one?”

The girls politely decline and Alex wordlessly shakes his head, mind on the way Justin’s fingers are lightly brushing his arm where he’d held a hand out to urge him back into his seat. As soon as he leaves the room, Hannah and Jess are turning on him with manic grins.

His lips quirk up in a tiny smile, suddenly nervous. “What?”

“Justin Foley is still staying in your house. Justin Foley is wearing your clothes,” Hannah says, tone full of wonder, and Alex rolls his eyes. His smile widens slightly, though.

“There was beer spilt all over his,” Alex brushes it off. “It was either my clothes or no clothes.” The girls exchange a look, and Alex lets out a noise. Disappointed and reprimanding.

Jessica grins at him. “Have you seen that too?”

It takes Alex a minute to understand the question, and then he throws a cushion at her. They both collapse into a fit of giggles, and Alex shakes his head, amused. “You’re both hopeless. I’m not gossiping about Justin for you. Would you like me to tell him how obsessed you are with him?” They share another look and Alex scoffs. “Oh my god. Hopeless,” he says again.

“Oh come on Alex, you’re being unfair,” Jessica tries again. “You get to see him all the time. The least you can do is give us a little info.”

Alex shakes his head again. He thinks about the night before, when he’d had to change Justin’s clothes and had gotten quite close to seeing that. He hadn’t been thinking about that, though; he’d been thinking about how skinny Justin’s gotten and how many moments of abuse blemish his beautiful skin and how, like that, Justin looked more vulnerably breakable than anything and Alex still wasn’t sure he could a damn thing about it.

He’s a little more convinced now, though, at least. He still certainly isn’t going to tell the girls any of that.

“The difference is I’m not just interested because I wanna bang him,” Alex mutters. He doesn’t know why he’s annoyed, but he is. It usually just amuses him, how infatuated they are sometimes, but that was when he simply understood their reasoning. Justin Foley is charming, smart, athletic, funny, cute, handsome, hot, sexy, and whatever other synonyms for downright attractive you’d like to use. Alex saw that too, accepted it for what it appeared as, and understood the simplicity of the attraction.

Now Alex is slowly learning Justin, and the knowledge he has of the other boy being so much  _more_  makes him annoyed. The ‘care’ they have for Justin seems so meaningless compared to what he deserves. The idea alone of Justin being objectified sits unwell with Alex and he frowns a little deeper.

“Is everything okay, Alex?” Hannah asks gently.

Alex slumps a little and rubs a hand over his face. “It’s just,” he breaks off, sighs. “He’s just having a kinda shitty time. I’m trying to help him out, not help my friends get in his pants.”

They exchange a different sort of look, this time, and Jessica’s voice is soft. “We’re sorry, Alex. Would it be better if we weren’t here?”

Alex considers it. “No. I think it’ll be good for him to have a break, actually. And I trust you guys to be good company when you’re not being hopeless.”

They look like they want to reply, but there’s footsteps on the stairs and they settle for giving Alex a thumbs up. He rolls his eyes again but smiles again, grateful for how lovely they are when they need to be. It’s effortless then, and he thinks this will be good for Justin.

At the thought of his name, he reappears in the doorway with a fluffy blanket of a colour Alex can’t quite discern wrapped around his shoulders. It’s a strange turquoise sort of colour that matches, albeit darkly, the green jumper he’s wearing and that Alex didn’t even realise they made blankets in, nevermind the Standalls owned.

He looks, adorably, like a little kid that got out of bed and extremely snuggable. Alex screws his nose up at the word though he has to admit it’s true, and he wonders if when comfortable, Justin is a cuddly person, because he certainly looks it now.

Alex momentarily resents him again for being such a goddamn puppy.

He chances a glance at the girls, expecting to him find them both reduced back to hopeless puddles. Instead they sat looking at Justin, Jessica with her brows furrowed, Hannah with her’s raised.

Justin’s gaze flits between them all curiously until Jessica asks, “Has that been on your face the whole time?”

“What?” Justin blinks. He reaches towards his face, then remembers the cream on his cheek and says, “Oh. Yeah. Thanks to Nurse Standall here.”

“That might be funnier if that wasn’t my mom’s actual title,” Alex says matter-of-factly. Justin merely shrugs and drops back into his place on the couch, curling himself into a ball under his blanket, his feet planted on the cushion and knees tucked to his chest. He looks incredibly small.

Hannah tilts her head. “I thought the stitches would’ve stayed on longer. Is it not that bad, then?”

“It’s definitely not  _good_ ,” Alex mutters at the same time Justin shrugs again. He looks at Alex and shrinks a little further into himself.

“Does it hurt?” Jessica asks softly, and Alex realises he hadn’t asked that himself. He feels bad about it instantly, and worried, looking back at Justin with a pang. It makes him think not only of the possible pain of the wound but the probable headache and stomachache and whatever other aches he might have obtained.

“It’s a little annoying,” Justin admits. “This shit does help a little.” He gives Alex a different look, accompanied by a little smile and Alex thinks it’s a mixture of reassurance and gratitude. Silently telling him he’s not just talking about the cream. Alex smiles back and lets some of his relief show.

“I bet it looks badass,” Hannah states. Justin turns his smile on her, grows it into a grin. Alex sees the pain hidden behind it, the ridiculous thought that he was not at all badass, or of any strength at all, but weak and stupid and powerless and small.

Alex wants to smack some sense into him. But he knows that would be rather counter-productive. He would settle for just hugging him again instead.

He does neither of these things, because the girls are here and even without them the boundaries with Justin are still unclear. Alex doesn’t want to push him, but he does desperately want him to heal.

“We should watch a movie or something,” Jessica says suddenly. “Alex, Netflix.”

Alex gets up obediently to fetch his laptop. He tries not to rush because he knows there’s no need, but he does it anyway. He comes back and hooks it up to the TV in the sitting room then retreats as Jessica crouches next to it. “Any recommendations? Or protests?”

Hannah says, “Something funny,” without clarifying which question she’s answering, but it’s Jessica and she doesn’t have to. Then she says, as he’s going to sit down, “Alex, sit your skinny butt over here, there’s enough room.”

There is, he supposes, enough, but that doesn’t mean there’s much. Jessica settles back into her place between Hannah and Justin. Alex expects Justin to settle closer to her to leave room, but instead he slides over to the arm and allows a space for Alex to sit between them.

Alex settles into the spot carefully and sees Jessica has put on Bad Neighbors, and knows it well enough to not have to pay attention. Which is good, because his mind is very much not there.

He’s thinking about changing Justin’s clothes and how he was very skinny and worrying but also about how he has shockingly nice skin and intricate tattoos and is still very much beautiful; is wondering if he is still in pain and if so what kind and how bad is it; is debating whether he should make Justin something else to eat yet or at least get him more water; is thinking and overthinking and hoping he’s not going to, in the end, make Justin’s life worse than it is.

The girls are giggling away at the movie, and at one point Hannah goes to get snacks and comes back with a large bag of popcorn that the two share between them. Justin lets out an occasional huff of amusement but is sitting with his head tilted back against the couch, eyelids low.

About half an hour into it, his head tilts slightly so that it’s just touching Alex’s shoulder, then stays very still. Alex does not stiffen. He leans against Justin’s side just slightly; stating he’s there, giving him permission. Justin leans his cheek on Alex’s shoulder properly, careful of the cream still smeared on it.

Alex is, then, unfocused on everything but Justin’s warmth against his side, his hair brushing his neck. He reassures himself, repeats it over and over in his mind, that he’s warm and he’s here and alive, alive, alive. Broken but mendable, and bit by bit accepting Alex’s offer of a shoulder to lean on.

Justin’s breathing is quiet and slow, and Alex turns his head towards him. He pitches his voice as low as he can, just for Justin. “Sleep if you want to.” Justin doesn’t answer, but he leans his legs against Alex’s thigh. Within ten minutes, he’s asleep.

Alex relaxes against him, content with his contentedness. If he sleeps now for a little while, Alex can make him more food when he wakes up. It shows how tired he must be, how peacefully he slept all night and how easily he’s nodded off now. The fact that he only did so after settling himself on Alex reinforces his theory of the physical contact helping. He wonders if Justin’s ever experienced this much in this little time that wasn’t intended to hurt him. Then he discovers that’s a very sad thought and pushes it out of his mind. He’s been having a lot of them today, and if that’s what he’s experiencing he doesn’t want to think about how Justin feels.

He realises he’s been staring down at the boy for the length of his thoughts, and he flushes slightly, directing his gaze back up at the TV.

After a few minutes, all of their attempts are abandoned. The girls notice the boy’s asleep on Alex’s shoulder and decide it’s the appropriate opportunity to question Alex more about him.

“What did he mean? That you saved him?” Jessica asks curiously.

Alex blanks, wondering for a moment what she’s talking about. Alex doesn’t remember ever saving anyone from anything. Then, “Oh. Just that I vouched for him with my parents.”

It’s, again, not technically a lie. Alex had to do a little vouching and would do more for Justin, though he knows his parents don’t really need convincing. They’re committed now, so Justin’s not getting away. He knows that wasn’t what Justin meant. Justin meant Alex literally saving his ass when he went and picked him up off the street.

He isn’t sure he should explain that to the girls, though. He feels like he’s already given too much.

“You’re being really good to him,” Hannah muses. “Whatever’s going on, he’s lucky to have you.”

Alex looks down at him, feels his soft breath against his shoulder. “I don’t know about that.” He thinks it’s more like the other way around. He used to think everyone could have whatever amount of Justin they wanted, that Justin allowed it. Offered it, presented it. Now he understands the truth—he’s extremely lucky to have any of Justin. Not Justin Foley: jock, player, Prom King type. But Justin, this boy asleep on his shoulder, who can’t comprehend why anyone would give to him carelessly, who’s woken by nightmares, but soothed by Alex’s hand in his or having his side pressed to Alex’s. Who cried when Alex hugged him.

When he looks back up, the girls are staring at him. “Well,” Alex says, “he’s still Justin Foley, isn’t he? Obviously I’m the lucky one.”


	6. The Kings are Dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna do a lot more with this chapter, but it’s already been long enough and the chapter’s an okay length. So it’s a bit of a filler, and the other stuff will come next chapter. There’s still fluff and angst and shit going down, though. 
> 
> P.s. I just wanna say how much I appreciate all your comments and kudos. I love this fic regardless, but you all make it a lot easier. I do want to give a special shoutout to bitterblue33 who makes my freaking day every. Single. Time.

_I wish I said this, I wish I said that_   
_But I kinda had a panic attack_   
_I wish I could talk good_

~^~

Justin only woke when the girls got up to leave, a while after the movie was over. He stayed napping quietly on Alex’s shoulder until then, and Alex could see the adoration in the girls’ expressions when he sleepily bid them goodbye. Alex forced a few more meals into him (it wasn’t a very difficult job, now) and they lazed about and did some homework and talked about happier and more pointless things than what they’d gotten used to. They had dinner with Alex’s parents, who did a not-very-subtle examination of Justin the entire time. 

When it got late enough for them to go to bed, the hesitation seemed to come back. Unlike the nights before, Alex was in bed before Justin. Justin hovered at the side of the bed nervously, lips parting to ask a question but unable to find the words, and Alex pulled back the covers silently. Justin’s smile was visible in the dark, and he crawled in next to him. He settled much as he had the night before; curling into himself with a single shiver, tucking the blanket right up to his chin. Alex watched him lay there worrying at his lip for a few minutes before moving his hand under the covers and brushing his fingers against Justin’s. They curled around his easily and immediately, giving a grateful squeeze. They both slept the whole night. 

Now, filled with breakfast, they settle themselves into Alex’s car. There’s a visible change in Justin already, at least under Alex’s hopeful eyes. His eyes are a little brighter, the bags underneath so small they’re _almost_ nonexistent. He’s smiling at all of them, and it seems to be real. The gesture is infrequent and small, but it’s there, and it’s a start. 

His hair is still perfectly disheveled and he’s back in his own clothes, t-shirt and jacket and jeans. It’s a nice denim jacket Alex has frequently seen him wear, and it looks expensive but Alex is unsure if it is. He’s stuck in the idea that it can’t not be, but it couldn’t be. Maybe it had been a gift. 

Justin turns on the radio almost immediately, switching between a few channels before he’s happy with one, then turning it down to background noise. He twists a little towards Alex on the seat, hiking a knee up. “Hey.”

Alex’s brows lift and he smiles, amused. “Hey.”

“Do you think this shit actually looks badass?”

Alex glances over at him. He looks curious and shy and like he’s trying not to be. It’s obvious that he’s talking about the gash on his cheek, which now does look slightly badass. If badass is the equivalent of painful. It certainly looks painful. 

“Yes, Justin, you look very badass,” Alex assures him, and he tries to be as serious about it as he can, because it doesn’t seem like a time for sarcasm. “But, didn’t you tell everyone you fell into a counter, anyway?”

“Well...yeah.”

Alex looks over at him again and his smile widens. “So badass.”

“Fuck you, Standall. What else was I supposed to say?”

“I know. Sorry.”

Justin sighs. He shifts a little, leaning more heavily against the back of the seat and resting his head. “Don’t be. It was a pretty not-badass excuse.”

Alex snorts. He can’t argue with that. “If it makes you feel any better, a lot of people completely ignored that and still think you were in a hot street fight or something.”

“What’s hot about a street fight?” Justin inquires, tone underlain with laughter. 

“I think that part’s just you,” Alex muses. 

This is met with silence, and after a few minutes Alex peeks at him to see his head ducked, cheeks tinted red. He laughs softly. Of course. They were all terribly stupid to think Justin Foley is as cocky as he tries to appear. Alex wants to tell him that everyone would be equally fond of this version—the real one. Alex himself is; maybe even more so. 

He doesn’t really know how to tell him that, though. Doesn’t know how to phrase it. Not in a way that fits their relationship—still tentative and trying to find a place to settle. Alex wonders, for the first time, how many people are aware of this Justin. Of his home situation. He thinks there mustn’t be anyone else, there couldn’t be; otherwise they’d be taking care of him. Looking out for him. Wouldn’t they?

But he also thinks that’s impossible. Surely he can’t be the only one—surely, out of everyone, Justin wouldn’t have chosen only him to open up to. Surely, at least Bryce must know. 

Alex strongly dislikes that thought. 

Bryce was dismissive when Alex went to him looking for Justin. Claiming Justin can take care of himself, wondering why Alex would even care. Surely, if Bryce was aware, he would have been worried. Surely he would have even come looking for Justin himself. Surely he wouldn’t have brushed it off so easily, stating that Justin can take care of himself. Alex isn’t sure that he can, and even if he was, he wouldn’t want him to. Justin should never have been left alone to deal with this. That in itself is cruel. Surely, if Bryce knew, he would care. 

Surely. 

Alex’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

“Hey,” he starts hesitantly. He can feel Justin looking at him. “You know we were never mad at you, don’t you? I know I say stupid things sometimes but I’ve kind of always done that and it’ll most likely happen again and I just want you to know I really never mean it like that.”

He glances over at Justin and sees him looking back with his lip pulled between his teeth, his eyes soft. He nods. Alex nods, too, and looks back at the road as they reach the school. He pulls in to the parking lot before continuing. “Okay. Good. I also wanna say you’re not housebound. Like, I’m really worried about you but I trust you. If you wanna leave, whenever, as long as you tell me the truth. Because. I worry. But if you ever wanna, like, go to Bryce’s or something instead, I get that.”

The response to that is silence. It lasts for about ten seconds when Alex glances over at Justin worriedly, wondering what he’s said wrong. Justin’s looking at him with a very blank expression. 

“Do you want me to do that?” he asks quietly. 

Alex blinks, finds a space. “What?” He shuts off the car. 

Justin’s expression is still carefully blank when Alex turns to look at him, but with more than a second to look he can see that there’s too many emotions swirling in his eyes to decipher any of them. There’s no expression that could possibly convey them all, so Justin’s conveys nothing. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Oh. Oh. No,” Alex says, too quickly. “I didn’t mean leave as in leave. I meant as in, go to hang out and come back. But I guess if you uhm. If you wanted to stay at Bryce’s instead, that would probably be okay,” he tries not to let too much disappointment seep into his tone at the idea. “But I don’t want you to. I would be cool with you not leaving at all. I uhm. I’m just saying it would be okay. If you wanted. But I would rather you hang out with me, really.”

He snaps his mouth shut then, becoming aware of his rambling and feeling heat creep up his neck. Justin is still staring. His lips tilt into a small, slow smile. “I don’t really want to hang out with Bryce,” he admits. The ‘I would rather hang out with you’ is unsaid but implied. Maybe. Maybe not. Alex decides he doesn’t really need to think about it. 

Then what Justin actually said settles in his mind and his brow furrows. “Is everything okay with you and Bryce?”

Justin turns away, and Alex notices his smile fall as he shrugs. “It’s fine.” Before Alex can prod anymore, Justin’s opening the door and getting out. 

Alex sits there for a moment after it slams, then sighs and gets out too. 

~^~

The next few days go similarly. Alex and his parents force meals and water into Justin and are glad to watch his strength slowly rebuild. He sleeps curled up next to Alex, the simple act of holding his hand seeming to keep away the nightmares. The bags under his eyes recede to almost nonexistent, and they’re waiting for him to grow back into his own clothes, though the process is slow. Justin accepts their kindness with a lot less hesitance than before, although it’s still there. There are some occasions where they just have to let it go, the anxiety it causes Justin not feeling worth it. Still, though, he’s getting better, taking some things with nothing more than a grateful smile. 

Alex can’t help but pay more attention, still. Enough to notice that Justin still flinches. That sometimes—during meals, on their car rides, in the halls, sitting silently—Justin isn’t really there. He’s somewhere else, sometime else, that Alex is unaware of, making him incapable of bringing him back. It pains him, the thought of Justin retreating somewhere he can’t reach, but he’s lost on how to stop it. 

He hides it amazingly well, to those who don’t pay attention. Which is, apparently, everyone but Alex. 

It’s harder for Alex to pay attention at school, because he doesn’t see him as much. Justin is gone in the mornings the moment Alex pulls the car to a stop. He isn’t in any of Alex’s classes, so Alex only sees him in the halls. Usually with Bryce and the others, laughing and talking and jostling and looking like he’d rather not. Only, once again, to Alex’s watchful eyes. He finds him in the cafeteria, always, where he’s also with Bryce and the others, just to make sure he’s eating. 

He watches him, and he worries, in a constant, repetitive process. 

It’s Friday when things change. Alex slumps down with his lunch tray next to Hannah and heaves a sigh. She raises a brow at him, resting her cheek on her fist. “Yes, Alex?”

“I’m failing calculus. It’s happening. There’s nothing you or I or anyone can do to stop it,” he declares. 

Hannah pats his hand as Clay and Tony join them. They do that, occasionally, but Alex is pretty sure Clay is mostly there for Hannah and Tony’s mostly there for Clay. “You’re failing? I could tutor you, if you want,” Clay offers. 

“Clay, you being a year below me and able to do that doesn’t make me feel better,” Alex mutters. 

“Oh come on, Alex. I already tutor Jeff, what’s the big deal?”

“Why do you need tutoring?” 

Alex looks up as Justin settles next to him, his own tray rattling as he places it on the table. He’s looking at Alex curiously. Alex stares back. 

Hannah kicks him and he jerks a little before clearing his throat. “Calculus. Failing. I’m failing Calculus.”

“Shit, seriously?”

“Yeah. I kind of suck at it, so.”

Justin raises his brows, glancing at Clay. “And Jensen doesn’t?”

Instead of retorting, Clay gives him the same look Alex had when he first sat down. “You’re sitting here?” Clay says it the way all serious questions should be said—with an incredulous tone, matched by an equally incredulous expression. 

“I guess.” Justin looks to Alex, expression hopeful. “Is that okay?”

Alex softens immediately, unbidden smile forming on his face. “Yeah, of course.” Justin’s smile is so bright it should hurt Alex’s eyes, but he can’t look away, just grins dopily back at him. 

Clay makes a disapproving noise. “Alex isn’t the only person here,” he gestures. 

“Don’t be an asshole, Clay,” Alex says. 

“Yeah, Clay. I’m also okay with it, Justin,” Jessica assures, winking at him with a smile. He grins back. 

“I am totally okay with this,” Hannah agrees. 

They all look to Tony, Clay most hopefully. He looks up from his food, realising they’re all staring at him and rolling his eyes. “I don’t fucking care where he sits.”

Clay huffs and gives his food an angry stab. “Great,” he sighs, “me either.”

Alex rolls his eyes as Jessica pats Clay’s shoulder. He turns to Justin to reassure him, but the boy’s focused on Clay, expression drawn. He nudges a chocolate muffin towards Clay. “Here,” he offers. “You can have my muffin.”

Clay looks up. He narrows his eyes at it. “Did you drug it?”

“Jesus, seriously?” Justin growls. “I’m trying to be nice but if you want to be an asshole I’ll just take my fucking muffin and—“

Alex grabs Justin’s wrist, unthinking, when the boy starts to rise, and Justin flinches out of his grip. The movement can be played off as him simply pulling away from Alex, and while he’s sure that’s all the rest of the table sees, Alex knows better. The others are witnessing what they think is a boy with some anger issues—something expected when you’re friends with Bryce. Alex understands that, really, it’s hurt. He hates that he made it worse and just manages to bite back an apology, but he has to make this better somehow. 

“Justin,” he says softly, “you can sit down. Clay’s just being an asshole.” He gives the boy in question a pointed look. 

Justin sits back down, shoulders slightly hunched. “Sorry,” he mutters. 

Alex shakes his head. “You have nothing to apologise for,” he states—again, pointedly. 

Clay gives the offered muffin an apprehensive look. “Fine. I’ll take your chocolate bribery.”

He does, and they all wait silently. “And?” Tony prompts. 

Clay looks over at him, feelings of betrayal clear. Then, “Sorry.” It’s barely a mutter and it sounds like it pains him, but Justin accepts it with a shrug. 

“Whatever.” He starts picking at his own food, and Alex feels sudden distress at the realisation he gave some of it away. To make up for it, Alex gives him a handful of fries. Justin looks up and raises a brow at him. “I already have fries.”

“And now you have more,” Alex says drily. He can tell that Justin understands, though. If the way he rolls his eyes even as he ducks his head to smile is any indication. 

“Alex, you love fries.”

Alex jerks his head up again to see Zach looking at him with furrowed brows. Behind him stand Jeff and Scott. 

“Obviously,” Justin says seriously, “he loves me more.” 

Alex scoffs while Zach grins. “He must. He’d bite anyone else’s hand off,” Zach says. Alex flips him off. He does catch the tiny tilt of Justin’s smile as he looks back down at his food, and he’s not as bothered by the teasing. 

Zach sits down next to Justin and Clay’s eyes widen. “You’re sitting here too?”

Jeff pats Clay’s head before settling down beside Tony. Scott drops down next to him. “Dude, why aren’t you sitting with Bryce?” 

This is from Jeff, directed at Justin, who stares resolutely at his tray. “Why aren’t you?” he counters. 

“You aren’t,” Zach replies. “We made the unanimous decision to take your side.”

“There are no sides,” Justin mutters. 

“But something happened?” Zach questions. 

“What the fuck is this?”

They all look up this time at Bryce. Alex gets a clear view of him where he stands behind the others across from him. His eyes roam around the table before focusing on Justin. He looks pissed. This thought is weirdly satisfying to Alex, but Justin stiffens next to him. 

Justin’s hands have moved to tightly grip the bench under him, and Alex hesitantly covers the one next to him with his own. He squeezes before brushing his thumb over the boy’s knuckles, watching him relax minimally. He glances over at Alex and Alex gives him a curious look. Justin ignores it. 

Bryce raises a brow, smirking. “Who’s fucking who?”

“No one’s ‘fucking’ anyone,” Hannah says tersely, sarcastic air quotations included. “Maybe they just wanted a change of scenery.”

“Right.” Bryce settles one hand on Clay’s shoulder, the other on Tony’s. “These boys are great eye candy.” His gaze lifts from Justin to Alex. “Especially Standall.”

“Fuck off, Bryce,” Justin says at the same time Tony warns, “Get your fucking hand off me.” No one pays attention to him, all eyes focused on Justin. He’s glaring, furious, but he’s tense again under Alex’s hand, has a white-knuckled grip on the bench. “If you just came to be a dick, you can go.”

Bryce raises his brows. “Damn, Justy. When did your balls drop?”

Alex waits for one of the others to make a joke or tell him to fuck off again, but they all sit silent and wide-eyed. Waiting for Justin’s response. Alex doesn’t give him time to give one, rolling his eyes as he questions, “Did you want something?” 

This snaps Bryce’s attention back to him, which Alex is okay with. Then he focuses on the space—or rather lack thereof—between him and Justin and smirks, and Alex is just annoyed. “Don’t tell me it’s you two that’s fucking. You givin’ sleeping at Standall’s a whole new meaning Justy?” 

A muscle in Justin’s jaw twitches. “Why? You jealous?”

Bryce’s eyes darken, but on the outside he laughs. “Impressed. Didn’t think anyone could make Standall their bitch.”

Alex thinks there’s a weird compliment in there, but Justin seems to ignore that part. “No one can. It’s one of the things most people like about it, but I’m sure it’s the reason you don’t.”

This also seems to be ignored, by Bryce. “Maybe you’re his bitch. He tell you he came around looking for you on Saturday?” Justin stiffens. Bryce notices. “But you weren’t at mine. Still, I told him you can take care of yourself. But hey, I could’ve been wrong. It is always my door you end up at.”

“Get your fucking hand off me,” Tony says again, voice a lot more pissed off and threatening. “And get the fuck away from our table.”

“Oh hold your tits, Padilla,” Bryce rolls his eyes, but he takes his hands back. “I’ll see you later, Justy.” He walks away with a wink, and Alex thinks it’s worse that he didn’t throw a fit that Justin—or the others—wasn’t sitting with him now. The promise of ‘seeing him later’ was one meant to strike fear, and Alex feels unbridled fury at the realisation it worked. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Zach questions, careful but forceful. 

Justin sits stiffly, and he’s pulled his hand from Alex’s. He looks a little sick. “Nothing.” Then, abruptly, he stands. 

“Where are you going?” Zach asks. 

Justin only mutters, “I gotta take a piss,” before walking off. 

Alex stares after him, lips parted. Hannah touches his arm and he looks back at the table to find all their gazes on him. “What’s going on there?” Jeff wears an expression of genuine bewilderment. Alex understands. Bryce is the King, but he undoubtedly shares the throne with Justin. The kings never fight. 

“I have no idea,” Alex rubs a hand over his face. He mumbles, “Fuck.” Then he drags himself up to go after him. 

“Where are _you_ going?” Zach raises a brow. 

Alex steps over the bench and answers, simply, “He doesn’t need to piss.”

He thinks he hears Zach call after him, but he urgently needs to get to Justin all of a sudden. It’s the only thing that’s important. 

The idiot didn’t eat his fucking lunch. 

He only notices the attention they’ve gained when he feels Bryce’s eyes on him, and realises they’re not the only ones. He meets Bryce’s gaze and the other boy smiles. Alex’s eyes glance off him as if he’d never been looking in the first place, and he walks out of the cafeteria. 

It doesn’t take long to find Justin. He only made it a few corridors, and Alex finds him pacing back and forth. It’s hard to tell what he’s feeling, mostly because Alex can’t get a proper glimpse of his face with all the pacing. He flinches when Justin stops suddenly and drives his fist into the wall. There’s a cracking sound, and Alex really hopes it isn’t Justin’s hand. He’s pretty sure it isn’t when Justin only shakes it out with a hissed, “Shit.”

“Jesus, Justin,” Alex rushes over to him, barely noticing the way the younger boy startles. “Why the hell did you do that? Let me see.”

He reaches out; Justin jerks away from him. Alex quickly pulls his hand back, staring. Justin’s face is pinched. “I—Sorry.”

Alex shakes his head slowly. “It’s okay. Are you okay?”

It’s very obvious that he isn’t. He’s trembling from head to toe, his breaths all shaky. His hand looks red from where he just punched the goddamn wall, but he covers it before Alex can figure out the extent of the damage. It’s clearly a stupid question, but Alex only asked in hopes Justin would answer honestly. 

Instead, he firmly states, “I’m fine,” and makes his expression as blank as he can. Which is to say, completely. Alex doesn’t know how to explain that that worries him more. 

He decides to take a different angle. “What’s going on with you and Bryce? And don’t say nothing.” Justin doesn’t say ‘nothing’, because he doesn’t say anything. Alex should have expected that. He softens his tone. “You really still won’t talk to me?”

Justin tenses his shoulders, jaw clenching, eyes steely. He takes a threatening half-step closer. “There’s nothing going on. And even if there was, it wouldn’t be any of your fucking business.”

“I know you’re not an asshole, Justin,” Alex reminds him. “That’s never worked on me. I’m trying to help and be there for you and I never fucking push. But if you want to be a dick, I don’t have to listen to it.”

“Then go,” Justin bites. 

Alex withers. He rubs a hand over his face again. They stand their silently for a moment before eventually Alex says, “Will you at least come finish your lunch?”

Justin’s expression is back to his blank one. “I’m not hungry.” He doesn’t give Alex a chance to respond as he turns and heads off down the corridor, leaving him behind. 

This time, Alex doesn’t follow him.


	7. Waking Up Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been so long!! This is a longish chapter to make up for it; we’re finally pushing things along. A lot of this chapter is Alex’s inner monologue as he panics about different things, which there’ll likely be more of for a while now.

_I wanna sleep next to you_   
_But that's all I wanna do right now_   
_So come over now and talk me down_

“Here.”

Alex shoves a second plate of dinner towards Justin. His head jerks up to look at where Alex stands in front of him, and he stares at the plate. “To make up for the lunch you didn’t eat,” Alex states. He isn’t still pissed about it. Really. He doesn’t care. This is just leftovers. Better Justin eat it than throw it out. 

If it’s also a little extra meat on Justin’s bones, then, great. Two birds with one stone, and all that. 

Justin slowly takes the plate, giving a tiny nod of thanks. Alex drops onto the couch next to him, curling his legs under him. Justin pokes at his food and Alex pulls his phone out of his pocket to avoid watching him eat. He refuses to be that creepily overbearing. Maybe it’s why Justin had lashed out, earlier. Maybe he needs a little space. Alex can provide that, surely. It’s not entirely too hard for him to believe that Justin doesn’t want to spend as much time with him as he has been. 

“I’m sorry,” Justin says quietly, suddenly, effectively killing Alex’s character in Temple Run. He lowers his phone to look up at him as Justin adds, “About earlier.”

Alex licks his lips. “You were kind of a dick.”

Justin huffs, a laugh with no humour in it. “I usually am. It works out better that way.”

“Why do you think that?” Alex asks carefully. He senses this is another of those moments. Justin’s done another complete one-eighty on him, and he’s slowly learning how to handle them. It’s beginning to get exhausting, but he doesn’t really care. It’ll be worth it, he knows. Justin is worth it. 

“People just accept it. They _like_ it. It makes them like me, like I’m somehow cooler because I’m mean to them. Or maybe it’s because it seems like I don’t care if they like me or not. Like I don’t care what they think of me. They wanna be my friend because they think it’s some fucking honour or something. They don’t actually care. Makes things easier.”

He takes a breath. Alex is listening intently, scared to speak in case it makes Justin stop. Justin continues, though, so he doesn’t have to worry. “I usually don’t really care about them either, but I still care. About what they think. About them liking me. I wish that I didn’t, but I—I’ve always felt like I needed them to, I guess. That they just, accept what they see without questions.” He looks at Alex. “Then there’s you.”

Alex smiles wryly and lifts his hand in a little wave. “Alex Standall, son of a sheriff and a nurse. Made to care. At your service.”

Justin sighs, gaze falling to the last remnants of his food. He angrily shoves a forkful of vegetables into his mouth. “And really fucking nosy,” he mutters. Alex is sure he saw his lips flick up in the tiniest smile, before he stuffed his mouth. He’s going to choose to believe it regardless. 

He lets his own smile widen and shrugs. “It’s part of the package. When they don’t outright tell you all the hurt in their pretty little hearts, you gotta needle it out of them.”

Justin winces. “That sounds painful.”

“Which is why I usually hope it isn’t necessary. Some people open up freely, bit by bit. Most of the others only take slight needling, realise it’s more painful, and just talk to me.”

“You do this for a lot of people?” Though Justin tries to pretend otherwise, tries to make it more sarcastic than anything, Alex can see the genuine curiosity. 

It’s what makes him drop the jokes and answer honestly. “Nope. You’re the first. I was hoping you would understand I was giving you advice on where to go from here and actually listen to it for once.”

Justin’s shoulders curl forwards slightly. “I just...I can’t. I don’t understand what you want from me.”

Alex deflates. “I don’t want anything from you, Justin,” he says softly. 

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be doing this. I—I know you were mad at me, and you still didn’t do anything. I’m still here. I wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t want something.” Justin eyes are clenched shut and he has a vice like grip on the fork. Alex notices his hand is trembling slightly, and assumes that’s what the death grip is about. His heart squeezes. 

There’s also the fact that Justin’s knuckles are bruised and red, angry looking now after he split them open earlier. 

He can’t stop himself from reaching out, doesn’t even register how bad of an idea it is until Justin is violently flinching away from him, the plate almost falling from his lap. He manages to catch it and set it on the table, at the same time putting a considerably larger distance between Alex and himself. 

Alex slowly drops his hand back in his lap. “Sorry.”

Justin shakes his head then keeps it turned to the side, away from Alex. “I—I’m sorry. I just...I don’t know what to do when you do that.” He twists his own hands together, as if to stop Alex from reaching out again. Or, maybe, thinking about Alex reaching out again. At this point, Alex can’t tell. He has no idea what Justin means about that—what he doesn’t know, what it is that Alex does. 

He’s already messing this up, though, so he just says, “Okay. Sorry,” again and flits his gaze away. 

Justin curls in on himself and doesn’t say anything. Alex doesn’t know how to break the silence—doesn’t know how to make this better. Any of it. He’s been in over his head from the beginning, maybe. There’s nothing he can do for Justin. Not really. 

But if he doesn’t try, who will?

Alex stands, notices Justin sag a little more. He’s only gone a few moments, though, and Justin looks up again when he returns. Alex holds up the first aid kit. Justin doesn’t react, so he sits down next to him again and holds his hand out. After a minute, Justin places his own in it. 

Rivulets of relief flow through Alex, and he cradles Justin’s hand gently, carefully. Justin feels a little like a pulsating bomb at the minute, the slightest pressure capable of setting him off. There’s a reason Alex hasn’t pushed, not as much as he wants to. 

He’s afraid. Whatever has already happened to Justin has backed him up to the tittering edge of a cliff. Alex is afraid that if he breathes a little too harshly a little too close, the other boy will tip right over the edge. 

Which is why he doesn’t say anything more, now. He just cradles Justin’s hand and cleans his knuckles as painlessly as possible, squeezing the other’s palm apologetically every time he tenses. Only one of them is actually split, the others only marred with angry bruises, but Alex gives each the same attention. Just in case. No one can say he isn’t thorough. 

“This is turning into a thing,” Justin muses. Alex glances up at him. There’s not really any tone to his voice, and his face is expressionless. Everything blank. It’s simply a statement, an observation, and it makes it all the more difficult for Alex to decide how to respond. 

“Yeah, well. It’s not your fault. Except this time. This was just dumb.”

“It’s always my fault,” Justin argues, so quietly Alex almost doesn’t hear him. Alex snaps his gaze up to him again, and this time he stares, lips parting. He can’t think Alex is that stupid. Alex knows he didn’t fall into a goddamn counter. The little scar that now remains on his cheek was in no way self inflicted—nothing like Justin’s wounded knuckles. It wasn’t some stupid accident. The only similarity it has to this wound is that it’s a result of unleashed anger. The biggest differences is that Justin’s anger was likely justified; Alex feels confident enough in assuming so, even though Justin won’t tell him. 

The anger that caused Justin’s other wounds is closer to madness. An anger driven by careless bloodlust, by heartless cruelty. There’s such an _unjustified_ wrongness to it that it makes Alex a little sick to his stomach. 

Alex knows that they came from abuse. Surely Justin can’t still think he doesn’t. Really, Alex deserves more credit than that. 

Then understanding sinks in. 

Justin isn’t still trying to make excuses; isn’t trying to hide the truth to it. He’s well aware that Alex knows what they are. 

He just blames himself for it. 

Alex’s heart pinches painfully, his stomach lurching. “Justin,” he starts. 

The other boy speaks again before he can continue. “I know how to do this myself. I’m used to it. You don’t have to keep being my nurse. It was my fault. I can take care of it.”

“Justin,” Alex says again, and then nothing more. He doesn’t know what else to say. What can he say? His mind is spinning as it attempts to find the right words, but it’s being overwhelmed by feeling. Alex feels awful. He’d placed blame on Justin, not realising how often Justin has placed the blame on himself. Now, he tries to pull his hand away, and Alex almost lets him until his mind settles and he holds on. 

“I want to,” he gets out, finally. “If this is all you’ll let me do for you, I’m going to do it. I want to help. If this is the only way you’ll let me, fine. But at least let me do this.”

Maybe Alex is a terrible person for asking. With the fear ingrained in Justin, it’s more likely he’ll say yes. But does it matter if what Alex is requesting is for Justin’s benefit? If it’s to take care of him, asking should be fine. He shouldn’t even have to ask, really. It’s certainly the first time he’s ever experienced it. 

Regardless, Justin settles his hand back in Alex’s. 

Alex smiles at him, relieved, and brushes his thumb over Justin’s fingers absentmindedly. They twitch against his palm and Alex decides to ignore it, reaching back into the first aid supplies for a bandage. 

As he winds it around Justin’s knuckles, his mother comes in. Her eyes take in the scene in front of her and immediately grow concerned. “What happened?”

Justin stiffens but Alex stays focused on his task, twisting the bandage down around Justin’s palm before pinning it in place. He doesn’t let Justin go, because Justin doesn’t seem to have noticed he’s finished and isn’t pulling away. Selfishly, weirdly, confusingly, Alex wants to keep holding on. This is the hand that clasps his in the dark, under the covers. These are the fingers that twine through his, seeking comfort. Alex doesn’t get to pay attention to them in the light, yet he’s already beginning to know them by heart. When he can constantly feel the memory of them against his own, it isn’t hard to imagine what they look like. Now, studying them with his eyes, is only confirmation. 

“He punched a wall,” Alex answers his mother. “Stupid, but presumably for good reason.” He gives her a look, trying to convey his thoughts that she shouldn’t push it. It’s not really a big deal. It’s okay. He isn’t exactly sure he believes that himself. 

Carolyn does not ask, but she looks like she wants to. Instead she says, “You could have asked me to do that if it was bothering you.”

Justin brushes his other hand over the bandage. “Oh, um, it wasn’t really bothering me, Mrs Standall. Alex just...has a nurse thing,” he smirks slightly and Alex makes a noise of indignation, aiming for a playful punch to the other’s arm before he catches himself. He unfurls his hand in his lap and settles for giving Justin a glare instead. 

He watches his mom’s brows raise and bites back a groan. “Is that so?”

Alex points a warning finger at her. “Don’t tell Dad.”

She raises her hands placatingly, an amused smile on her lips. “Of course not. I’m sure he’s going to notice, though. Those stitches and now this, it’s not hard to tell where your heart lies,” she winks. 

It feels like a punch. Alex feels some of the air woosh out of him, his heart skipping and then speeding up drastically. Surely she isn’t implying...that. He’s beginning to care deeply about Justin, of course, how could he not? But it’s not like—his heart doesn’t _lie with him_ , or anything like that. He wants to take care of him, yes. That doesn’t mean he has feelings for him. If anything, that would feel cruel. He’s been adamant on not wanting anything from Justin. He’s supposed to be the friend that Justin needs, that’s all. And he is. 

Isn’t he?

“Your dad will be okay with it. He’d want you to follow your dreams,” Justin agrees, smile teasing as he pats Alex’s knee. 

And oh, okay, now Alex understands, thank God, but he doesn’t even focus on that. He can’t. All his focus is on that small point of contact, on the tingling sensation spreading through his leg. From a barely there touch, just the quick there-and-gone tap of Justin’s fingers. 

It’s no different to the usual sensation of being touched. It’s the same tingle of Hannah’s arms around his shoulders, of Jessica’s hand on his arm, of his mother’s hand on his cheek, of his dad’s pat on the back. It’s the same. 

Isn’t it?

He decides the best option is to stop thinking about it. He’s overthinking, and crazy thoughts slip in when you overthink. The truth twists and spirals into something strange, some ridiculous notion. A stupid idea had formed in his mind and made the touch more than it was. That’s all. 

When he comes back to the present, he catches Justin’s curious gaze, trained on his own face. He looks away immediately, back to his mother, who has settled herself in the armchair. She sets her elbow on the armrest and props her chin in her hand. “I just wanted to check in, ask how school’s going.”

“Good,” Justin says, earnestly polite, at the same time Alex mutters, “Great,” with considerably more sarcasm. 

Carolyn’s face rearranges itself in concern as she turns on him. “Is there something wrong at school, sweetheart?”

Alex shifts, glances at Justin. “No, it’s fine. It’s just,” he shrugs, “school.” 

His mother doesn’t seem convinced but she glances at Justin, too, and lets it drop. “We’ve tidied up Peter’s room, Justin, so you’re free to sleep in there now if you want. It might be more comfortable than Alex’s floor.”

This time, Justin glances at Alex, questioning. Alex doesn’t have any answer for him. It’s not like he thought to casual tell his parents when they started sharing the bed. He thought, really, that they would have just figured it out. The makeshift bed on his floor has been absent since that awful day Justin ran off, and he knows his mom goes picking through his room when he’s not here. He’s a little confused himself, if he’s being honest, and strangely a little relieved. He isn’t sure how to tell his mother now that actually Justin sleeps in the bed with him, that it’s the only way he does sleep, curled up next to Alex with their hands clasped between them. He isn’t sure Justin would appreciate the sharing of that information, either. 

So he doesn’t say anything, and neither does Justin, other than, “Okay. Thank you, Mrs Standall.” Both of his parents had tried to stop those formalities at the beginning; ‘please, call me Carolyn,’ ‘you can call me Bill, Justin’; though of course, it didn’t work. Justin politely declined with the firm addition of the titles and they didn’t push. Justin’s comfort is always the main goal, here, and his parents especially try to avoid anything that may make him uncomfortable. 

Alex suddenly realises what this conversation means, then, and tries not to start too visibly. Justin can stay in Peter’s room, now, and he seems to have accepted the offer without much thought. Maybe Alex was wrong. Maybe Justin doesn’t need the physical contact. Maybe it had been Alex himself that felt the comfort from it. 

It’s a strange thought, settles in his mind weirdly, but it doesn’t feel all that surprising, all that improbable. Worry over Justin keeps him preoccupied often, now, and of course it’s eased when Justin is next to him. Sleeping and peaceful and safe. Of course it would be comforting, to not have to think about it. 

Which is why, he’s sure, when he slides into bed alone, it feels entirely _wrong_. He’d bumped into Justin as the boy was leaving the bathroom, shivering in sweats and a t-shirt, and it had felt normal, familiar. It hadn’t registered, he doesn’t think. Then Justin brushed past him with a tiny smile and Alex watched him slip into Peter’s room, shutting the door behind him, and the wrongness had started to creep in. 

He can’t help but think about him as he settles down, wrestling his pillow under his head. If Alex feels like this, what is Justin feeling? Alex’s room had been at least slightly familiar to him, when he got here. He’d stayed with him before, bunking on his floor in silence. Alex never really realised the sadness in it until he thought about it again recently. Justin always seems sad to him now. 

He wonders what he’s thinking. If he’d looked around Peter’s room, any. If he’d left any lights on. What side of the bed he was sleeping on; the left, Alex thinks, like he always has in here. If he’s comfortable or if the bed feels strange, the mattress unfamiliar under him, the covers the wrong weight over his body. The pillow would feel different, even. He wonders if Justin had subconsciously reached out for a hand that wasn’t there, for a touch he’d grown used to, like Alex had. He wonders if the space next to him feels as empty as his absence does to Alex. 

Maybe Justin doesn’t feel any of this, though. Maybe he’s fine. He’s probably already sleep. 

Alex curls up smaller, fingers curling in his pillow where his hand is tucked under it. His other hand lays palm down in the middle of the bed, fingers splayed pointlessly over the mattress, picking at loose threads. He lies like this for something like twenty minutes, he guesses, before groaning and flipping onto his other side. 

He does this, tossing and turning, for what must be hours as sleep evades him. He lies on one side and then the other, occasionally flopping onto his back and dragging a frustrated hand through his hair as he stares at the ceiling. Nights like this aren’t unfamiliar to him, where he spends more of his time lying here awake than asleep. 

He hasn’t experienced it since Justin got here, he realises. Even those first nights when he’d sat up with Justin after his nightmares, it had been a different sort of awake. He’d felt some purpose in it. He’d been able to sit there and feel tired but useful, taking in the slopes and planes of Justin’s face, of the lumpy shape of his body under his blankets. After that, when Justin moved to the bed, waking up in the night had been peaceful. He’d run his thumb over Justin’s knuckles, the back of his hand, feel the twitch and shift of the boy’s fingers between his own. On occasions where he woke for longer, he allowed his attention to settle on Justin’s face again, on those same slopes and planes. He familiarised himself with the dips and groves of Justin’s hand while memorising his features, and eventually sleep always reclaimed him. 

Now, though, his frustration grows as his mind runs uselessly, the darkness refusing to pull him under regardless of his shut eyelids. He’s too tired to focus his thoughts on any one thing, attempting to put himself to sleep with song lyrics and unable to hold onto the words. 

He gives up and instead thinks back on the day, on Justin, and the new information he’d picked up. Something had happened with Bryce, he gathers, something that must be relatively recent. Something to break Justin’s loyal trust, to add another fissure to his crumbling faith in anyone that got close. Alex has never liked Bryce, but the dislike has grown considerably in the course of the day, turns to angry hatred in his exhausted state. 

He still doesn’t know what or who hurt Justin at home, but he assumes it’s whoever his mother is currently sleeping with. The thought makes him grimace, and he marvels at the unbridled hatred he feels for a man he doesn’t know. 

He’s feeling a lot of hatred, currently, and it makes him smile at himself. Of course he feels the strongly about people who had hurt Justin. He feels strongly about everything else surrounding the boy. 

He flops onto his back again, eyes tracing the familiar crack in his ceiling. He sighs and lets his thoughts turn more pleasant, but still very much Justin-centered. He thinks of all the smiles he’s gained out of him since he got here, of the surprised laugh that had slipped from his lips at the film they watched the other day. He’d been so awed by the sound he’d forgotten not to stare, and the blush that coloured Justin’s cheeks only wanted to hold his attention even as he teared his gaze away. 

He thinks of all the little bits of contact. Of Justin holding his hand, touching his arm, or his leg today. Of Justin falling asleep on his shoulder curled next to him on the couch, hair tickling Alex’s neck and breath tickling his collarbone. Of Justin’s arms around him and his own around Justin, the boy’s face tucked into his neck and tears wetting his skin. Just the memory of it makes Alex want to hug him again, to hold on until all the pain runs out of him through those tears. 

He remembers how Justin’s hair felt between his fingers, how Justin reacted to the touch. How he had softened, melted, leaning into Alex as he relaxed and the crying stopped. It had been as soothing for Alex as it had been for him, he thinks, the soft feel of it in his hand, the rhythmic motions, the extra connection. 

None of the moments had felt entirely important to Alex. None of the contact had seemed overly significant. Then today he’d taken his mother’s words the wrong way, and at the thought of what followed his leg starts to burn again. 

He closes his eyes. This is not a good time to be thinking about this. When he’s this frustrated and exhausted it’s bound to become dreamlike and fantastical, blown out of proportion. He can’t think straight when he can’t think at all. 

He pushes all of it from his mind and turns back onto his side, pulling the covers up to his neck. 

That’s when he hears it. 

It’s faint and choppy but unmistakable to Alex’s ears. Quiet, broken sobs sound from somewhere close by and Alex hears the low tones of someone’s scared voice. He can’t make out any words, but he doesn’t have to, knows exactly what and who it is the moment it starts. 

He’s out of his bed then his room and across the hall to Peter’s door in a heartbeat. He belatedly registers his dad coming out of his parent’s room and doesn’t care, pushes the door open. 

What he finds is heartbreakingly unsurprising. Justin is curled up, hands clutching the covers and pillows. He’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, even though he’s shivering, the hairs on his bare arm raised. His face is twisted in distress. A string of, “no, please, no, don’t, stop,” falls from his lips. 

It’s so reminiscent of those first few nights and Alex’s heart breaks. He hasn’t been able to stop it. Of course he hasn’t. He can’t feed all of Justin’s pain out with one hug and sheer willpower. Nothing’s gotten better. Not really. Not in Justin’s head. 

Alex hardly thinks before he’s climbing onto the bed next to him (the right side, empty) and placing a hand on his shoulder. He keeps his touch gentle but firm and tries to coax Justin awake. “Justin, hey, wake up, you’re okay. You’re safe, Justin, it’s me, wake up.”

He still isn’t surprised when Justin jerks away from him as he wakes and he squashes down the disappointment. It’s not difficult to do; Justin focuses on him quickly enough and leans back into his space, reaching out almost unconsciously. “Alex?” he chokes. 

“Hey.” Alex catches his hand, squeezes. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.” He gives into the urge and slides his hand into Justin’s hair carefully. Thankfully, Justin presses into the touch, free hand coming up to rub at his watery eyes. 

“Sorry. I—I didn’t mean to w-wake you, I—“

“Obviously, Justin, you were sleeping. It’s okay,” Alex shushes him, running his fingers through his hair. Justin sniffles and nods, taking in a shaky breath as he shifts closer. He curls his hand in Alex’s shirt tightly and looks up at him pleadingly. 

“Don’t go,” he whispers. “Please. I—I can’t—please..”

“Okay, it’s okay. It’s fine. I’ll stay,” Alex soothes, and Justin tugs on him. Alex lets him rest his head on his chest, wrapping his arms around him when he’s settled. He slides his hand back into Justin’s hair as Justin curls his arm around his torso. 

It’s only then that he notices his parents standing in the doorway. Both of them look equally as sad as he feels. There’s worry there, too, and none of it disappears when they turn their gazes on Alex. “Alex?” Bill asks, hesitantly. 

He nods. “It’s okay. I’ve got it,” he assures. 

They still don’t seem sure, but his mother only says, “Tell us if you need anything.” Then they leave, shutting the door softly behind them. Justin flinches anyway but only curls closer to Alex, hand retangling in his shirt. Alex holds him tighter and shushes him quietly, fingers brushing over his temple before returning to his hair. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Alex asks after a moment. 

Justin shakes his head, takes in another shuddering breath. “Just—stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alex promises, and Justin seems to relax, his breaths returning to normal. Alex adjusts them so he can lie more comfortably on the pillow, Justin sticking with his chest, and fixes the covers over them. This seems to ease Justin further, eyelashes fluttering as his lids slip shut. 

Alex thinks he’s asleep until he mumbles, “Alex?” Alex hums back. “Thanks.” It’s barely a whisper at this point, but it warms Alex’s heart all the same. 

He smiles; whispers back, “Of course.” Then Justin is asleep. 

It’s only a few minutes before Alex follows him. 

~^~

Alex wakes up slowly. It’s blissful. He feels tired, but in that peaceful way of emerging from a good rest, his eyes heavy but not dead like he’d been expecting. He’s surrounded in warmth, a comforting weight pressed along the whole left side of his body. There’s an object over his torso and another over his leg, holding him in place. It takes a minute for him to realise they’re limbs, and another to remember who they belong to. 

His eyes slit open. Mercifully, the room isn’t that bright, but it’s no fault of the sun. The curtains block out most of the light, though a strip shines through the gap at the edge and lets Alex know it’s probably late morning. It reminds him that yes, it’s Saturday, and he doesn’t have to get up. 

He lets his head sink back into the pillow, his eyes slip shut, and then the body against his shifts and they snap back open. 

Justin hasn’t moved away any during the night, if anything has only curled closer. His arm is tucked around Alex’s waist and he has one leg tangled between Alex’s. His breaths are slow and even, his back raising and falling beneath Alex’s palm. His hair is a mess, just brushing Alex’s skin above his collar. His lips are just parted, half pressed against Alex’s shirt. His lashes fan over his cheeks, his small scar visible in the dim light. 

He’s beautiful and Alex is rendered breathless at the revelation that he doesn’t want him to move. He doesn’t want him to wake up and shift away, out of the hold of Alex’s arms, where he’s softened and safe and at peace. It’s selfish, incredibly so, and he’s doing the one thing he promised he wouldn’t. He _wants_ , and it feels like the worst thing he’s ever done. 

It’s not that it’s inappropriate, not that he’s asking anything of Justin like that. But it’s desire all the same, the desire of Justin’s trust. He wants, unexplainably, to be able to hold Justin like this and for Justin to want him to. He’s always wanted to help Justin, to be a pillar of support, a stepping stone. He never considered that it was wrong, that it was a contradiction to everything he was saying. It was purely for Justin’s benefit—Alex wouldn’t get anything from it. He didn’t want anything from it. 

He wants, now. He wants more than to be a shoulder to lean on. He wants Justin to want him. He wants to be his friend, someone important to him. He wants Justin to want his help, his comfort, his touches, his presence. He wants to be important to and wanted by this boy, and it’s so, incredibly unfair. 

He’d promised. 

But he still only wants it if it benefits Justin. He still doesn’t want anything that would hurt him. He could never want anything that would bring Justin any harm. Does that make it okay? If it’s a caring want?

He’s prevented from thinking about it any further when Justin shifts again. There’s a hitch in his breath, and this time his eyes blink open. His arm tightens around Alex and then seems to realise what it’s holding on to, disappearing as Justin jerks himself away. 

“Woah.” Alex catches his arm before he can fall off the bed. Justin flinches slightly but then relaxes, doesn’t pull himself away. He looks stunned. “Careful. It’s just me,” Alex assures him. 

Justin blinks. “I—sorry. You….” He seems to be thinking, and Alex imagines he’s trying to remember, the previous night coming back to him slowly. “I shouldn’t have asked you to say. I—I’m so sorry. Y—you didn’t have to—“

He cuts himself off, but Alex knows what he means. He didn’t have to do that much. He didn’t have to stay. They didn’t have to...cuddle. 

Alex settles more comfortably onto his side and shrugs. “It’s okay. You didn’t have to move. I mean it was probably good you did though because my arm was kind of dead,” he smiles, and Justin actually laughs. Short and breathy and weak, but a laugh nonetheless, and Alex memorises it and tucks it into a deep corner of his heart for later. “But I mean, it was nice. Or, uhm, I didn’t mind. So don’t apologise, or whatever.”

Justin bites his lip as they threaten to tilt up at the corners and nods. “Okay,” he murmurs, and this, too, goes straight to Alex’s chest. The image, the sound, the feeling of the moment. The peace in it, regardless of its awkwardness. He only realises then how true his words were; how easily he’d fallen asleep once Justin was at his side. His heart thumps oddly. 

Justin shifts closer again, hands curling into his chest. “Still, I—I’m sorry about last night. About waking you again.”

Alex shakes his head. “I hadn’t been asleep.” 

“Oh,” Justin’s brow furrows worriedly. “Did you not get any sleep?”

“No I—I slept when I came in here.”

Justin’s brow smooths out. “Okay. Good.” Then he’s biting his lip again. “I don’t—I don’t know why it helps. Having you here. It shouldn’t make me feel better but it...it does.”

Alex’s eyes widen at the admission. “Oh. Uhm,” he clears his throat. “Good. I’m glad.” He pauses. “Do you—do you wanna talk about it?”

He watches as Justin takes a breath, as he seems to steel himself. Then he meets his gaze, eyes scared but serious. “I think I want to talk about everything.”


	8. If Walls Could Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This is an extra long chapter (almost 12k) and discusses pretty much everything mentioned in the tags. It includes talk of domestic/child abuse and attempted sexual assault.

_Let my love in, let my love in_   
_Lay your heart on me_   
_If you're hurting, if you're hurting_   
_Lay it all on me_

Alex stiffens. He can’t possibly mean what Alex thinks he does. He wants to talk….about everything? He’s really going to tell Alex all of it?

Alex suddenly thinks he doesn’t want to know. He knows already that none of it’s going to be good, that he isn’t going to be pleased by a single word of what Justin tells him. That whatever his story is, it’ll be unpleasant. There’s no chance it’s going to leave Alex feeling warm and fuzzy. It’s going to leave him sad and angry and aching, wanting, still. 

He doesn’t know to what extent exactly the awfulness goes, and he suddenly doesn’t want it in his head. 

But he still does, too. He wants Justin to confide in him. To feel comfortable with him, to trust him. He wants Justin to be able to get this off his chest, out of his system. If there’s a chance it’ll bring any kind of relief or peace to Justin at all, Alex wants it. 

So he only says, “You don’t have to. It’s your choice. But if you want to, I promise I’ll listen.”

Justin curls a hand in his pillow and clears his throat. His voice still comes out a little low, a little anxious. “What do you already know? Be honest, please.”

Alex wasn’t really prepared for this request, but Justin seems to want him to answer, is looking him in the eye resolutely. “I know someone hurts you at home,” he answers quietly. “I’m guessing it’s your mom’s boyfriend. I know something’s going on with Bryce. That you had a fight or maybe he did something to hurt you too, but it was enough to break your trust in him.”

It’s all he can think of. All he does know. It seems like very little, when he says it out loud; there’s nothing concrete there at all. None of it is anything Justin has told him. He only has basic assumptions, the most reasonable explanations to everything he’s witnessed. It only comes from what’s played out in front of him. The realisation reestablishes the desire in him, the want for answers. It reminds him that he wants to know the whole truth. 

Justin nods, accepts this easily enough. “I think it’s easiest if I just, start from the beginning.” 

Alex forces himself to relax and nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Justin’s knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the pillow, but he starts speaking. “I don’t know my dad. I’ve never known him. He left before I was born. My mom always said we were better off. That he was no good, anyway, that he only made her life worse than it already was. I always thought that he was into drugs or something, that he was the one who got her hooked. But I think now she probably meant me.”

Alex wants to argue already, but Justin doesn’t take a break for him to and he doesn’t want to interrupt. He imagines it’s hard enough as it is. 

“Either way, she got into all of it. For as long as I can remember she’s just...needed it. And we don’t have any money, y’know? She can’t get a job. So she gets a boyfriend. Someone who can get her her shit. She’ll give them anything for it,” he laughs humourlessly. 

“Some of them are nice. Or at least, as nice as you could expect. They’re good to her and they buy food and stuff for us. They like me, sometimes, or at least don’t really mind that I’m there. They’re no fun, though. I guess they’re not exciting enough. They never last long. Most of them aren’t like that. They hate me the second they find out I exist, but Mom must be good for something because they stick around anyway. They’re just—they’re naturally aggressive, I guess. It’s part of the job. I just...stay out of the house when I can. Out of the way. It’s just a matter of waiting it out.”

He clears his throat again. “It’s just there’s this one guy. Seth. Bryce and I,” he fumbles, there, “always call him Meth Seth. I don’t know what it is. Maybe he has the most money, or he gets the best drugs, or he’s the best fuck. She always goes back to him. He doesn’t—he’s never liked me. I tried staying out of his way, too, but it’s…”

He pauses, closes his eyes. Alex hates this already, and he’s pretty sure it hasn’t even really started. 

“It’s usually only me. They don’t hurt her. Or if they do, it’s when they go. I don’t fucking know why he’s different.” Justin opens his eyes again, and it’s the saddest Alex has ever seen them. They’re glossy, the green bright, and Alex really just wants to go back to holding him. He doesn’t move. 

“The first week, he h-hit her. I didn’t even think before getting between them. It was the first time I ended up on the floor,” he laughs, again, humourless. “He told me that if I wanted to get hit too, it was no problem. That I’d made a huge mistake. Didn’t I know who was paying for my food, now? Who was paying the bills, the rent, everything?”

He shakes his head, the first tear spilling over. “I couldn’t do anything. If he didn’t want me to eat, I couldn’t. If he didn’t want me there, I was gone. I tried. Arguing. Fighting back. I took his drinks, his drugs, his money, just to piss him off, at the beginning. I must’ve had a fucking death wish. It was my fault. I—I asked for too much.”

“That’s not true,” Alex says now, firm, furious. He can’t keep quiet anymore. “That’s not true, Justin. You need to fucking eat. It’s your house. If he didn’t want to deal with that he should’ve left.”

“My mom didn’t think so,” Justin responds tonelessly. “She wanted him. She was there, every time he kicked me out. I tried talking to her, too. It didn’t matter. I’m the one she never wanted.”

Alex’s heart is bleeding. He’s sure of it; it’s been pierced over and over in the past few minutes. He kept feeling the sharp pinch of it. It oozes, now, a painful heat in his chest and he would be crying, too, silent tears like Justin, if he wasn’t so desperately holding it back. “Justin—“

The other boy cuts him off. “Bryce has been my best friend since middle school. He gives me food. A place to stay. He never asked questions. His parents—they paid for everything. They got me clothes, shit for school. Everything I needed. It was just small things he wanted in return. I looked, acted a certain way to stay next to him. Different girls showed more interest in me, so I was his wingman. Then, later, I—I helped him make contacts. People who would deal with him. It wasn’t hard.”

“But he never hurt me,” Justin smiles, helpless. “It wasn’t like them. He took care of me and I just did him a few favours. We were _friends_.”

He stops, and Alex hates this. He shouldn’t have pushed so much, he thinks, shouldn’t have made Justin feel like he has to do this. It’s all spilling out of him in a pained rush and Alex just wants to hold onto him and reassure him. 

He allows himself to shift a little closer. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me. It’s okay, Justin.”

“I was staying at his place, out in the pool house. Like always. I didn’t—I didn’t think anything of it. Then I woke up, and he was sitting at the end of the couch. Scared the shit out of me. I told him to stop being a fucking creep, laughed about it. He asked if I—if he’d interrupted a good dream. It was just,” Justin flushes, shakes his head. “It was just morning wood. I guess he took it as an invitation.”

Alex freezes. He’s shaking, Alex realises, tears flowing faster. “Justin—“

“I just kept laughing it off. I was only wearing boxers. I—I didn’t think anything of it. Then he tried to pull them down.” He pauses as a tremor runs through him. His breathing is getting harsh, off-kilter; panicked. “I kicked at him but I—I was still trying to life about it. Still pretending it was a joke. But he...he got pissed. He pinned me down. I asked him what the fuck he was doing and he said that—that I owed him this. It was the least I could do for all the shit he does for me.”

Now Alex understands. He wishes he didn’t. He feels a little bit sick, and Justin—he isn’t done. But he’s shaking—no, trembling—and crying, breath sticking between his words. Alex wants to stop him, but at this point, he’s not sure it would help. He doesn’t know how to anyway. He’s pretty sure Justin wouldn’t listen. Or maybe he wouldn’t even hear him. 

“I was trying to push him off but I thought that he—that maybe he was right. That I should just...let him. But I was scared. M-my natural instinct was to fight so I—I kneed him in the stomach. It worked and I just, ran. I grabbed my bag and got halfway down the street before I even remembered to put clothes on.” He laughs, but it’s a sob, and when his eyes meet Alex’s there’s a broken hopelessness in them. “He didn’t even do anything, so why do I feel like this?”

A proper sob escapes his lips this time and Alex allows himself to reach out. He stops, though, with his hand a few inches away when Justin flinches. Alex’s heart aches. “What do you need?”

Another tremor rips through Justin, another sob, before he’s pushing himself into Alex’s arms. He presses close to his chest and fists a hand in his shirt and Alex winds his arms around him tightly, just as he had last night. “It’s okay, Justin, you’re okay,” he promises, even though he’s crying too. He can’t help it. 

“I’m sorry,” Justin chokes. “I-I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you sorry for?” The only response he gets is another sob. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. Seth, Bryce, whoever else ever hurt you, they’re the people in the wrong. You know that, right? Seth never had an excuse to harm you. And Bryce…” Alex feels his blood boil. “Bryce is disgusting. Him. Not you. Do you know that? Justin. You know that, don’t you?”

Justin shakes his head furiously. “It was m-my fault—I should have—“

“No,” Alex cuts him off, too harshly. He just needs this to get through. “They had no excuses, Justin. There are no excuses.”

He’s still shaking his head, though. “There’s more. I went back home, after. I—there was nowhere else to go. Seth was already there. He was waiting for me. He’d found this...magazine I had. He asked me if that’s where I was. Hiding at my boyfriend’s. Or maybe I was—was whoring myself out. I almost did. I almost just let him—“

He breaks off on a sob and Alex holds him tighter, runs a soothing hand up and down his back. “Then he said that maybe that’s why hitting me wasn’t doing any good. That maybe I was into it. That I,” another sob, “that I liked it rough. He was just screaming it in my face. And I—I froze. I was waiting for him to hit me and I couldn’t even think about trying to run or anything. I didn’t have anywhere else I could go. And what he was saying—when he got close—I thought—“

He stops, shakes his head, can’t say it. He doesn’t have to. Alex knows what he thought. God, he thinks, he hates that man. He’s never met him, doesn’t even know what he looks like, but he hates him so much. He just connects him with Bryce in his head, a disgusting duo that have caused this beautiful boy so much pain. 

“But he—he just slapped me a-and called me a fag. Then he threw the bottle and told me that I better be gone by the time he gets back. I-I wouldn’t have been i-if your dad—I didn’t have anywhere to go, I didn’t—“

He’s crying too hard to continue, shaking violently in Alex’s arms, and Alex has never seen him like this. Imagined it as one of his worst fears, yes, but always prayed it would never actually come true. He’s breathing so harshly he’s barely breathing at all, now mumbling incoherently—Alex thinks he’s apologising—and Alex suddenly realises what’s happening. 

“Justin,” he says softly. “Hey, you’re panicking. You’re okay, but you have to breathe. Okay? Hey.” Alex is trying not to panic himself—he’s never dealt with this before in an external situation. He’s experienced it himself, though usually his mother was there to help him. He doesn’t know how to help someone else. 

His first thought is to give him some space, so he tries to move away. Justin clings tight to his shirt, though, lets out a strangled, “Don’t.” Alex pulls him back into him, cradling his head against his chest and reassuring him he’s not going anywhere. He has no idea what he’s doing. 

Still, he carefully takes Justin’s hand in his and settles it on his neck, resting the boy’s fingers over his pulse. Thankfully, it’s steady. Justin’s hand trembles, and Alex brushes his fingers over the back of it soothingly, hears Justin suck in a breath. “Hey,” he whispers. “You’re not there. You’re here. You’re safe. Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe with me.”

Justin makes a choked sound, shakes his head. “I can’t—“

Alex shushes him, brushes a hand through his hair. “You can. Just take your time. It’s okay.” Justin doesn’t seem convinced, but his fingers press a little more firmly to Alex’s pulse. Alex holds onto him with one hand, still gently stroking Justin’s with the other. 

It takes a while, but eventually Justin’s breathing returns to a relatively normal rate. His hand slides from under Alex’s. He mumbles a weak, “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Alex assures. “I can’t—I can’t imagine what any of that must have been like. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I didn’t know.”

Justin shrugs, or tries to from where he’s lying down. “I didn’t want anyone to.” He stiffens. “Alex—you can’t tell anyone else. I...please. Don’t tell anyone else.”

Alex squeezes him, rubs a hand over his back. “Hey, I won’t, I promise. I know it was hard to tell me. Thank you. For trusting me. I know that can’t be easy, either.”

Justin shakes his head against his chest. His voice is still hoarse. “It’s the opposite. You make it hard for me to think I can’t trust you.” He pulls back, his head settling between the two pillows, far enough that they can look at each other properly but refusing to completely retreat to his own side. His hand is still curled in Alex’s shirt. Alex’s heart warms. 

“I don’t know what it is,” Justin continues. “But in that one day it was from one to the other to you. And you just, didn’t even question it. You set up the mattress, and stitched my face, and drove me to school, and all I’ve done is cause you problems but you’ve never even raised your voice at me. And other people, when they touch me,” he falters. “It was never just friendly. And after...after Bryce, I could never—“

He stops abruptly, but it’s only to start that thought over. “He would have hugged me, before. He was probably the only one. But I never liked it. It always felt, aggressive somehow. Even when he put his arm around me it was like—like he was doing it just to have some extra control over me.” He meets Alex’s eyes, and it’s almost shy. “It’s not like that with you. I liked it, when you hugged me. And when you hold my hand. It helps. I don’t know why, but it does. It’s like, no matter how much my head tries to warn me otherwise, I know you won’t hurt me.”

“I’d never want to hurt you,” Alex agrees. “Ever. I hate when I—when I do something wrong that makes you uncomfortable.”

Justin shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips. He looks exhausted. “You never do anything wrong. I just can’t stop it, sometimes. Other times it’s because I—I can’t understand it. What I want or, why I want it.”

Alex gives him a soft smile, reaches up to touch his hand. “What do you want?”

There’s a little more hesitation this time, as Justin slowly settles against his chest again. He winds his arms around Alex’s waist, taking in a shaky breath and letting out a steadier exhale. Alex wraps his arms around him in return and he relaxes further. It’s already becoming natural, Alex realises, holding Justin like this. He fits comfortably in the curve of Alex’s arms, in the place on his chest. “Can we just stay here for a bit?” Justin asks quietly. 

Alex presses his face to the top of his head. “Sure. We can stay as long as you want.” Justin squeezes him, a silent thanks. Alex squeezes back. 

Now that they’re just lying here, Alex is able to think. He decides pretty quickly that he would rather not, but his mind won’t stop running once it’s gotten the chance. First, there’s only gratefulness, and Alex is disgusted at himself before he thinks over why. He’s so grateful, in this exact moment, that Justin is right here. That he’s safe right now, that there’s currently no possibility of any further harm coming to him. Alex can be sure of it, because he’s here with him, in his arms, and Alex himself would never hurt this boy. He’s grateful that he’s able to be here; that worse wasn’t done to him. 

Then he feels awful for thinking that, because though it could have been worse, what has already been done is more than enough. His understanding is so much clearer, now, almost too clear, too vivid, after Justin’s explanation. He understands Justin’s hesitance, his fear of contact, his aversion to trust. 

Justin had been intentionally harmed by those closest to him. His own home was an unsafe environment, riddled with constant, unprompted abuse. Yet, he claims otherwise. What pains Alex most is the fact the Justin seems to truly believe the hurt placed upon him was his own fault. That it was only what he deserved. That he asked for too much, and it was necessary punishment. It shouldn’t even be considered punishment.

Alex hates it. 

Seth is a horrible man, and Alex will never be convinced otherwise. From his dad’s line of work, he knows the kind. Those that get off on the feeling of power, of holding fear over the heads of those they considered lesser. Or, in most cases, on anyone in their immediate vicinity. Alex is sure there was never a reason for him to hurt Justin, because that kind of violence can never be justified. He imagines how much it must have broke Justin down. To fear sleep, because he was terrified to even be in his own home. The confusion he was bound to have felt, for believing he was to blame and not knowing what for. The unexplainable guilt, for having done this unknown thing. The physical pain caused only by fists contacting skin, by the collision of body and any available surface, by broken glass and anything else on hand. 

It makes sense that he wouldn’t want to be there, of course it does. If he was being given any out, he was only right to take it. Alex just wishes someone else had been there to give it to him. Anyone other than Bryce Walker. 

Alex has never, ever liked him, and he’s sure the feeling is mutual. He’s glad, in a way, because he made it quite clear from the beginning and Bryce never had the opportunity to get in his head. To use him. The thought of what he’s done to Justin—

God, Alex can’t even think about it. He holds Justin a little tighter without thinking, but Justin only responds in kind. It, oddly, makes Alex feel worse. He’s glad Justin is finally accepting this affection, but appalled by the reasons he needs it. He wishes, more than anything, that he’d been a better friend to Justin from the beginning. That he’d seen, that he’d noticed, that he’d gotten him out earlier, before the worst had happened. He can’t change it now, though, can only hope he can somehow make up for it. 

It makes him feel sick. Thinking about someone so carelessly taking advantage of a hurt boy who’d put his trust in them. To think they deserved whatever they wanted because of what they’d given. He understands Justin’s discomfort now. His distrust. He’s wary of any touch—all those he’d gotten before were made to hurt or control. Even those of someone who was supposed to be his best friend, who was supposed to care for him, had turned ugly. Alex wonders if Justin has ever experienced true affection, if anyone’s ever touched him just to touch, not for their own benefit. 

It makes him feel a little better, a little less disgusted with himself. He enjoys Justin’s proximity, but he ultimately wants it for Justin. It only brings him any satisfaction if it’s what Justin wants—that’s what he’s happy about. Maybe it’s still unfair, maybe it’s still selfish, but he convinces himself he does it only with the best intentions. He wants it even more now, for Justin to find comfort in his touch, in him, to remind him that friendship and affection can and should be given freely. That not everyone will want to hurt him, regardless of what he asks for. That he’s allowed to have as much food as he wants, a comfortable bed to sleep in, without having to return any favours. That he deserves it. That even that is only the bare minimum. 

Alex makes a silent vow to convince him of this, however long it may take and however many road bumps they face on the way. Justin deserves it. 

He can’t begin to comprehend what it all must have done to him, and he won’t pretend otherwise. But he will act with as much care and kindness as he can and hope that it provides Justin with the chance to understand what real friendship should be. And if there are days that Justin goes quiet, or that he shies away from Alex’s touch, then Alex will give him the space he needs. He thinks that’s another thing Justin has probably never been given. The room to breathe on his own when he needs to, with nothing he may find a threat looming over him. 

“Justin,” Alex starts when a thought occurs to him. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to.”

There’s nothing for a moment, then a small nod against his chest. 

“Why did you keep hanging out with Bryce?”

Justin stiffens, and Alex immediately regrets asking. He doesn’t pull away, however. In fact he curls in tighter to Alex’s chest and gives an awkward little shrug. “I don’t know. I guess—I thought I was just overreacting. That it was just an accident, or something, like maybe he’d been drunk and I just didn’t notice. A part of me was waiting for him to apologise or at least—at least explain, or,” he cuts off, and Alex rubs a comforting hand over his back. 

“Even if he had been drunk, it wouldn’t have been an excuse. Nothing can excuse it,” Alex reminds him. Justin only gives a tiny nod. “He was supposed to be your best friend. That _bastard_.”

Alex would curse him some more, but Justin shrinks a little, moves away the tiniest inch. Alex reels his anger back in, murmuring a soft, “Sorry. It’s not you I’m angry with.”

Justin takes a breath, settles again. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay, first thing. Stop apologising. You’re not doing anything wrong. Okay?” Another nod. “What made you stop, then?” he chances asking. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you were still hanging around with him over a week like nothing was wrong. It was just yesterday, and you were—you showed that you were pissed at him. What changed?”

Justin hesitates; his fingers dig into Alex’s back. Alex doesn’t say anything. “He didn’t apologise. Yesterday morning he...he told me I needed to stop being a baby. That I was acting weird and I was just embarrassing myself. That whatever the hell my problem was, I better get over it. I made the mistake of telling him he was my problem.”

Alex lets his hand drift back to Justin’s hair, petting it in what he hopes is a comforting (and not awkward) manner. “Mistake? Wait. Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Justin shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that. He just—said that I was being ungrateful,” his voice wavers, and the huff of a laugh he gives manages to be self-deprecating. “That he was only doing me a favour, and I should stop pretending I didn’t want it. That he knows what I am, and who—who else would ever want me? And then he...he grabbed for me. And it was like Seth again. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t—couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe. He noticed. Laughed at me, said I was pathetic. That I should come find him when I stopped being a pussy.”

Another laugh. Alex is going to kill Bryce Walker. 

He presses his cheek to Justin’s head, reminding himself to not get angry this time. It’s difficult. “He’s an idiot and an asshole. I mean, basically the entire school wants you. And going by attractiveness, Bryce is way down the list on ones you should be flattered by.” Justin just gives a little huff. “I’m serious. People respect him because he has money but it’s you people like. Even if you pretend you’re a dick sometimes.”

“Better they think I’m a dick than a pussy,” Justin mumbles. 

“No one would think that of you, Justin. Even without knowing what you’ve been through. You know when people fall for you? When you’re sweet. I’ve seen it happen. Almost got cavities.”

Justin gives a real, surprised little laugh this time. Alex smiles, adding, “I mean, look at Jeff and Zach. They’re disgustingly nice and everyone’s obsessed with them.”

“But they’re straight.”

Alex freezes. Then, in a carefully light voice, “Well, that’s debatable, I guess. And what difference does that make?”

“It’s easier to get people to like you when you’re straight. You wouldn’t even have to think about it. I’m not—they wouldn’t—“

Realisation sinks in. 

_He’d found this...magazine I had. He asked me if that’s where I was. Hiding at my boyfriend’s._

_Called me a fag._

_I should stop pretending I didn’t want it._

_He knows what I am._

Oh, Justin. 

“You’re gay?” Alex questions softly. 

Justin’s breath hitches. “I like girls,” is his answer. 

“But you also like boys.”

Alex keeps his voice soft, gentle, but Justin recoils as if he’d screamed in his ear. He looks absolutely terrified. “I d-don’t—I...I just—sorry, I’m sorry, I—“

“I’m bisexual too,” Alex blurts. Justin stops. Stares at him. “I guess I’m not, I’m not out, but it’s not really a secret, or anything. Hannah, Jess, the guys, they all know. I usually assume most people do, honestly. I, uhm, I thought you did.”

Justin keeps staring at him. Then, so quietly Alex barely hears him even in the silent room, “I think I’m pan.”

Alex smiles brightly, nods. “That’s cool,” he assures. 

Very hesitantly, Justin smiles back. He bites his lip. “You don’t—you’re not mad? That I—you hugged me and everything and you didn’t know—“

“Are you mad at me? For hugging you and everything, when you didn’t know?” Alex cuts him off. After a moment, Justin shakes his head. Alex shrugs, keeps his smile soft. “There’s your answer, then.”

Suddenly, Justin’s reaching out, and then his fingertips are just touching Alex’s cheek. Alex stays very still and ignores the skip of his heart. “You were crying.”

“Oh,” Alex squeaks, flushing. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

Justin shakes his head. “Because of me?”

“Because of what you told me, I guess.”

There’s a pause. “No one’s ever cared that much before,” Justin whispers.

Alex smiles, a little sadly. He reaches up for Justin’s hand and carefully tangles their fingers together, squeezing. Justin looks at their interlaced hands, a tiny smile gracing his own features, and then Alex’s stomach rumbles. It startles another laugh out of Justin, and Alex is quickly growing to enjoy the sound. 

“I guess it’s time for breakfast,” Justin raises his brows. 

Alex nods, sitting up and tugging Justin with him. “Do you wanna shower first?”

Justin hesitates, then tightens his grip on Alex’s hand. He’s looking resolutely down at his lap. “I don’t...I don’t really want to be alone yet.”

Oh. Alex feels like an idiot. Of course Justin doesn’t want to be alone. He’d already had a panic attack after explaining everything to Alex. God knows what his mind would do to him if he was left with no other company. “Breakfast first, then.”

~^~

Justin sits at the table and watches Alex cook. He feels like Justin needs something a little sweeter, that it’s the least Alex could do for him. So, he’s attempting to make pancakes. He makes six small ones and two the size of the pan, then piles them onto a plate. He sets it in the centre of the table with a bottle of syrup and a tub of Nutella. 

“I don’t know what you prefer, so. You can take your pick, or have both, or maybe you prefer them plain—“

“Alex,” Justin cuts him off, smiling. “You didn’t even have to make pancakes. It’s perfect. Thank you. And,” he lifts the tub of Nutella, “it’s obviously chocolate.”

Alex laughs, raising a brow. He picks up the bottle of syrup. Justin gasps, his lips falling open. “Tell me you’re joking,” he pleads. Alex pours the syrup over two of the small pancakes by way of answer. Justin makes a noise as if he’s been punched. Alex looks at his wounded, disgusted expression and laughs again. 

It’s amazing, really, how easily Justin is able to joke around like this after the way the morning started. Alex is glad of it, to see the quiet smile back on his face as he spreads chocolate over his pancakes with no hesitation. That in itself is an improvement, and Alex allows himself a little pride. 

Justin takes a bite first, and his eyes widen. He looks up at Alex. “What the fuck.”

Alex’s joy slips. “Are they that bad? I can just make you toast or something or—“

“These are fucking amazing.”

Justin punctuates his point by devouring the rest of it in seconds, quickly moving onto the next after a sip of his water. He hardly seems to even be chewing, and Alex gets a little worried. “Hey, you’re gonna choke. Take a breather,” he laughs slightly. Justin responds by lathering another pancake. 

Alex only shakes his head, amused, when his phone buzzes on the counter. It’s Zach. 

_’Everything ok?’_

Alex frowns at it, then remembers. He looks at the time to see it’s almost half twelve already, and feels like an idiot. “Fuck, I was supposed to go to Zach’s.”

Justin stops eating to look at him. He looks a little crestfallen. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Alex decides to chance it. “Do you want to come? If not I can cancel and we’ll just stay here. It’s okay if you’re not really up for it. We can watch a movie or something, and Zach won’t even care.”

“You don’t—you don’t have to take me. Or stay with me. You’re already doing so much and I—“ 

“No,” Alex cuts him off. “Either way, I’m spending the day with you. I’d be perfectly happy with Netflix and food. Zach’s is just another option, if you felt like a change of scenery.”

After a moment, Justin nods. “I want to go.”

Alex raises his brows. “You sure?” Another nod. There’s a chance Justin’s only saying that because he thinks Alex wants to go. If he was in Justin’s position, Alex doesn’t think he’d even want to get out of bed. But maybe the distraction is what he needs. Whether that’s the case or not, Alex doesn’t see much reason to argue. He’ll be with Justin the whole time. If he thinks it’s time to leave, he can take Justin straight home. 

He sends a text to Zach. 

_’Yeah, sorry. I forgot. Be over later. Bringing Justin.’_

Zach responds almost right away. 

_’Great :)’_

~^~

“Are you sure this is okay?” Justin asks the instant Alex stops the car. He’s looking out the window at Zach’s house, hands fiddling anxiously in his lap. His bottom lip is held captive between his teeth, the scrape on his cheek stark and red in the dull light of late October. His varsity jacket is wrapped snugly around him. 

“Am I sure what’s okay?”

“Me being here.”

Alex blinks at him. “Why would that not be okay?”

Justin shrugs. “I’m just,” he clears his throat, “I’m not usually invited.”

Alex frowns. “His mom’s not here.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Alex stays silent, staring at him, until Justin looks over. His gaze immediately falls to his hands in his lap. “They hang out with me at school, and everyone hangs out at Bryce’s, but…”

“Yet they completely abandoned Bryce the second they thought you had. They don’t even know what’s going on, and they’re already on your side. If you think they just hang out with you because of Bryce, you’re a dumbass. It’s the other way around. I mean, you think I ever went to that house for that asshole?”

Justin’s eyes flick up to him, his lips parting. He purses them again quickly. “I just thought you came because the others did.”

Alex shrugs. “Well, I did. But I hang out with them here. Or at Jeff’s. I wouldn’t have had to go to Bryce’s. But you were always there, and I guess we didn’t think you’d want to just come hang out with us, or if you did Bryce would come with. It was unfair and now that I say it out loud I realise that we’re idiots. And dicks. I’m sorry. You were always welcome here, though. I guess we just thought it was easier to come to you.”

Justin doesn’t seem to have a response for that. He looks at Alex with bright eyes, widened in thought. His hands have fallen to his sides, loose. “So, you all only hung out with Bryce because I did?”

Alex hadn’t even realised it himself at the time, but now that he thinks about it it’s undeniably true. As nice as Zach and Jeff are, they’ve made their fair share of unkind comments about Bryce. Scott is a little more indifferent, overall quieter, but he’s not the boy’s biggest fan either. Alex thinks he’s made his own opinion very clear. 

“Pretty much. You’re the one everyone actually wants to be associated with but Bryce was always just, part of the package. A part you’d rather not have gotten, but wanted to keep anyway because it looked expensive.”

Justin’s brows raise. “I didn’t know you were so philosophical.”

Alex grins, wiggles his brows back. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Foley.” He catches Justin’s snort before he gets out of the car, rounding it to open Justin’s door. “Come on, before you can talk yourself out of it again.”

Justin grumbles, but he gets out of the car. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets as Alex shuts the door behind him, face pinching in apprehension. Alex carefully rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing when he doesn’t pull away, running it briefly down across his back when he leans into it. 

“We can still go home, if you want to,” Alex reminds him. Justin looks at him, something flickering behind his eyes. He turns away, squaring his shoulders and walking up to the house with quick strides. Alex shakes his head and follows. 

This is probably an awful idea. Justin had worked himself up to a panic attack just this morning. He knows the guys would be careful, but they don’t know. They won’t think anything of making dumb jokes or any physical contact. Joking shoves and playful punches, headlocks and tackles. Alex is more worried than anything that if they do anything that hurts Justin he’ll punch them not-so-playfully. He’d rather not punch his friends, but he doesn’t think he would really get a choice. At this point, and especially after this morning, it would be nothing more than a reflex action. Justin’s pain would tap at Alex’s heart and it would be an unthinking response that took effect through his fist. 

There’s still a lot they haven’t finished talking about, Alex thinks. Everything has been traumatic for Justin, surely, and he isn’t going to feel better simply because he got it out of his system. There’s a lot of issues that Justin’s going to have to work through, and Alex doesn’t know where to begin helping him. He’s been abused, and he has the ridiculous notion that he’s the one at fault. Both of his parents have neglected him in their own ways, and by the sounds of it he’s mostly brought himself up. If with some help from Bryce and his family. 

Bryce. Who’s supposed to be Justin’s best friend. Who probably hurt him more than anyway. Who would have raped Justin, if he hadn’t gotten away. 

Alex’s stomach twists violently at the thought and he stops on the way up to the house, sucking in a breath. He can’t imagine that violation, but his mind is definitely trying. He’d hurt Justin. Scared him. Held him down. If he’d just had another minute—

But he didn’t. Justin got away. All Bryce really managed to do was shake him up and break what Alex assumes was supposed to be a lifelong friendship. Instead he’d left Justin with what was likely to be a lifelong memory, the most disgusting betrayal of trust. He can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened, no matter how much he reminds himself it didn’t. He can’t imagine how Justin must feel. 

Alex feels like he’s going to be sick. He’s still stood in the middle of the driveway, frozen, although the dizziness suggests otherwise. He’s spinning, tilting, the disorientation tugging the nausea in his stomach up his throat. Justin hasn’t noticed. He’s walking ahead of him, still, hands in his pockets and though his shoulders are tense, they’re straight. God. Alex is useless. 

Justin’s had more time to adjust, maybe. No, not that, it’s not that, how could anyone adjust, to any of it? Justin is braver than him, maybe. Definitely. Justin is stronger than him, probably. Definitely. Alex doesn’t know what it is. He could he? 

There’s no way he’ll be able to understand, and he hates that. He doesn’t know what Justin was feeling this morning, when he shook and fell apart in Alex’s hold. He doesn’t know what Justin was feeling this morning, when he gripped Alex’s hand and admitted to not wanting to be alone. He doesn’t know what Justin was feeling at breakfast, when he devoured chocolate covered pancakes with a smile on his face like there was nothing wrong. He doesn’t know what Justin’s been feeling, since that day and longer, the whole time Alex has known him and before. 

He doesn’t know what Justin’s feeling now, as he walks up to another friend’s house with his head high but his hands likely trembling. 

They had separated after breakfast, to shower and change, Alex letting Justin go first and hovering about upstairs. Just in case. Justin hadn’t taken long, though, had come out fresh and damp with a natural smile offered in Alex’s direction so Alex had gone and tried not to take too long, either. 

But when he came out, Justin was still fine. He waited for Alex in the kitchen, playing a game on his phone and tapping the tub of Nutella against the counter. They’d had a large pancake each, and Alex had begrudgingly let Justin spread the chocolate over half of his. He enjoyed it more than he expected and pretended he didn’t. He thinks Justin knew, anyway, if the satisfied grin he tried to hide was any indication. 

Overall, he’s been fine. Even in the car, there was no outward fissure other than the twisting of his hands. He’s fine. 

Alex has known better for a while, and he knows better, now, has seen proof of it. He doesn’t know what Justin is feeling, but he knows there’s no way he’s as okay as he’s acting. But, Alex doesn’t know what to do about it. He doesn’t want Justin to break down again. He wants to have this pretense, for a while, that everything is okay. It’s selfish and he hates himself and damnation is inevitable, but he doesn’t know what else to do other than follow Justin inside. 

It goes wrong instantly. 

Zach says, “Hey, man,” with all his usual enthusiasm and pulls Justin into a hug. Alex freezes, again, as Justin does. Then—

Nothing. Justin gives Zach an awkward pat on the back and return and then it’s over, Zach pulling away to hold his knuckles out to Alex. Alex bumps them wordlessly, giving Zach a fleeting smile before his eyes flit back to Justin. The tension hasn’t left his shoulders for a second, and he looks a little stunned, but not really anxious. He didn't even flinch. His lips are tugged up in a wide grin by the time Zach turns to look at him. 

“I don’t have a fancy basement like Jeff, so we’re hiding in my room.”

“I thought your mom was out?” Alex asks. 

“She is. May’s not.”

Alex shakes his head with a smile. “You should let her hang out with us. None of us mind. Plus,” his smile widens, “she totally has a crush on Justin and if she finds out he was here and you didn’t tell her, she’s gonna hate you.”

Justin makes a choked noise and Zach scowls. “That’s why she’s not hanging out with us.”

“You never let her hang out with us.”

“She has crushes on all of you and you all know it. Justin’s just her favourite. Attraction wise, I guess. You’re her favourite favourite.”

Alex grins, looking over at Justin. His grin widens at the faint blush on the boy’s cheeks, the dumbfounded expression. Justin meets his eye and his blush darkens. “I didn’t even think May would know me.”

Zach scoffs. “I’m pretty sure she only comes to my games to watch you,” he rolls his eyes. Justin blinks. “I’d be annoyed if it was some asshole but I get it, so whatever.”

Justin blinks again. Then once more. “You—what?”

Zach is already walking towards the stairs and doesn’t hear him. Alex huffs a small laugh and Justin turns to him instead, utterly lost. “I told you you’re attractive,” Alex shrugs. “And that you’re not a dickhead.”

“I distinctly remember you calling me a dick.”

“You were being a dick. Momentarily. For understandable reasons. It doesn’t make you a dickhead. They’re completely different.”

“Oh.” Then he’s smiling, and it’s enough of a smirk that Alex’s heart does something funny. “An attractive dick.”

Alex can’t help the snort that escapes him, and of course that’s incredibly unattractive. “Only one I’ve ever seen.”

And then Justin is actually laughing, eyes crinkling as the most melodious sound falls from his lips and Alex has to smile at him. So he does, and it’s so wide his cheeks hurt. “Have you seen a lot of unattractive ones?” Justin asks. 

“Mind out of the gutter, Foley.”

But he’s grinning, they both are, and Justin’s still flushed lightly, and Alex suddenly remembers that he’s actually not straight. That this morning, Justin Foley came out to him amidst everything else. 

No wonder he’d blushed at Zach’s comment. Could he be into Zach? Alex supposes he would be if it wasn’t Zach and totally weird. Justin could be into him, though. Only Zach’s disappointingly straight, so Alex really hopes that isn’t the case. Justin doesn’t need unrequited feelings on top of everything else. 

Also, he seems to have a problem with it. He’s definitely not comfortable, was terrified while telling Alex. A crush on a straight guy is probably not the best way to help that problem. But then again, maybe it isn’t a crush. Zach is obviously attractive at the very least, and if it wasn’t Zach Alex would probably blush at something like that too. 

Also, it’s possible he’s just blushing because he’s Justin. 

Alex is forced to stop thinking about it when they get to Zach’s room and Jeff’s ruffling his hair in greeting. Alex bats him away and he grins. Justin stands a little behind Alex, hands shoved in his pockets. Alex has seen him look shy and scared and sad and happy and pompous and angry. But never once has he seen the Great Justin Foley look downright awkward. 

Jeff reaches out and ruffles his hair, too, and Justin’s lips break into a tiny smile, and that’s that. Scott is sat on the floor at the foot of Zach’s bed, game controller in hand. He gives them a nod in greeting then thrusts out the free controller. Alex steps forward to take it and Scott pulls it into his chest. “No,” he states. “Not for you. Justin’s playing. He doesn’t cheat.”

“Neither do I!”

“Sit and help Zach with his crisis and let me have a fair game for once, please.”

Alex’s brow furrows, and he glances at Zach. “What crisis?”

Zach smacks Scott over the head and scowls. “I don’t have a crisis.” Jeff and Scott share a look. “I don’t!”

Jeff shakes his head. Scott shrugs. “Told you he’d be weird about it with Alex.” He holds the controller back out, waving it at Justin. Justin takes it with a worried glance between Alex and Zach before settling himself on the floor next to Scott. 

“Why are you weird about it at all and why me, specifically?” Alex raises a brow. Then the other. “Wait. Are you finally ready to admit you’re in love with me?”

“Ha.” Zach purses his lips. Jeff pats his shoulder encouragingly before perching on the end of the bed by Scott’s shoulder, watching their game. Zach throws himself onto the bed, heaving a dramatic sigh. Alex drops down beside him and they lie on their backs, side by side, until Zach says, “I wanna ask Hannah out.”

Alex blinks. He looks over at him. “Like...Hannah Baker?”

“Do you know any other Hannah’s?”

Alex’s opens his mouth. Closes it again. “Okay, but. I’m pretty sure she’s kind of into Clay, man.”

“Hence the crisis.”

“Ah,” Alex says. Then, “Did you think I’d be mad, or something?” 

“I don’t know. I know she’s one of your best friends. Not your best friend, because that’s me, but maybe that makes it worse. I don’t know.”

“Dude, how much do you like her?”

“I like her, and it sucks.”

Alex blows out a breath. “Shit, man. I mean, I don’t know how to help you.”

Zach looks over at him, and he’s giving him puppy eyes. Oh, god. “I was wondering if you could talk to her. See if I have a chance.” 

“Zach,” Alex sighs. “That’s...I can’t do that.”

“I’m not asking you to set us up. You could just, bring me up casually and see how she reacts.”

“I don’t do casual and you know it. I’d still feel weird. Plus if Hannah knew what I was doing I’m pretty sure she’d punch me.”

“I could do it.”

Alex and Zach both look to the end of the bed. Alex wasn’t expecting the quiet voice to pipe up, especially not to make such an offer, but he’s not entirely surprised when he thinks about it. Justin isn’t looking back at them, his eyes still trained on the screen. Alex wouldn’t believe he’d really spoken if Zach hadn’t looked at him, too. 

“What?” Zach asks. 

“I could talk to Hannah,” Justin repeats, still focused on the screen. A second later, Scott’s tossing his controller away in defeat. 

“What the fuck? You were literally only half paying attention. Alex told you how he cheats, didn’t he? Fuck you, Standall.”

“You just suck, Scott,” Alex says dismissively. Then to Justin, “You don’t have to do that.”

Justin sets his own controller down and turns to face them. “I know, but I’m offering. I’m sure I’ll see her and Jess if I’m staying with Alex and they seem to like me okay, so I could just mention something casually. See how she reacts. They won’t think anything of it, and even if she finds out she probably won’t be that mad at me for trying to be your wingman.”

It...makes sense, in a weird way. Alex is oddly touched, and he’s going to be pissed if Zach doesn’t feel the same, because between dudes that’s a sweet thing to do. Alex is also grateful, because Hannah probably wouldn’t be mad at Justin, and knowing Alex refused any part in it, she wouldn’t be mad at him either. Justin is the only one with nothing to really gain from this, except possible bro-points with Zach. 

Perhaps not crushing on him, then. 

Or, crushing on him and only offering to fuck up any possible chance with Hannah, leaving him the shoulder to cry on?

God, now Alex is just being ridiculous. It’s doubtful that any of Justin’s mind is focused on something like a crush right now. Even if it is, it’s not Alex’s place to be thinking about it. It’s none of his business. Justin has already given up so much of his privacy to Alex—he isn’t going to intrude here, too. 

Zach frowns, apparently not as touched. “Everyone you talk to ends up in love with you. I don’t think that would help.”

Justin’s brow furrows, cheeks lightly flushing again. “I—that’s not true.”

“I mean, do you really need every girl? Don’t make it even harder. Please,” Zach continues, not even acknowledging that last statement. 

“I don’t—I don’t need any girl,” Justin sputters. “Look, I’m not interested in Hannah, and she’s not interested in me. All I’m going to do is throw your name into the conversation. How does that end up with her in love with me?”

“Everyone’s already in love with you,” Alex says, reflexively. Justin’s gaze snaps over to him. This time, it’s Alex that blushes. “I mean, they fangirl over you all the time. Everyone does.” 

Justin’s lips part, then purse. His eyes glitter with amusement. “You included?”

Alex does not blush any darker. He shrugs. Nonchalantly. “I am part of everyone. We all fangirl over you, these ones just try to hide it by being bitches. Really, they’re just as obsessed with you.”

“Way to make us all sound like stalkers, Alex,” Jeff raises a brow. Alex shrugs. 

“Okay, can we get back to the point here?” Zach cuts in. “Justin’s freakishly attractive and should not be allowed in the same room as Hannah nevermind talking to her about dating.”

Alex rolls his eyes, turning his head to look at Zach. “Do you want him to be your wingman or not? Because if you don’t, your option is getting over yourself and just talking to her personally.”

Zach looks back at him for a moment, debating. Then he turns to Justin. “I’d really appreciate you being my wingman.”

Justin gives a small grin and offers his fist. Zach bumps it with a matching expression, and some of the tension in Alex eases. This is good, he thinks. Justin needs a friendship like this, needs a normal few hours, a normal conversation. Maybe it doesn’t matter what happened this morning, maybe this is still the best thing for Justin. A little distraction, a little peace, just for a while. 

And it seems that way, for a while. Then, Alex doesn’t know what happens. He just knows that he looks at Justin and any faint trace of a smile is gone. The vacancy is back, eyes avoidant and unfocused. The lines of Justin’s body are taut, and Alex thinks once again that breathing too hard would be enough to topple him over. 

Alex wants to pull him aside and ask what’s wrong, make sure he’s okay, but he doesn’t think he can do that without alerting the rest of them. He doesn’t want them prying, not now, not about this. He wants to take Justin away and wrap him up and make sure he doesn’t have to think about any of it ever again. 

He knows he can’t do that, though, so he’ll settle for taking Justin home. 

He takes his phone out of his pocket as casually as he can and taps a few times at the screen. He lets out a sigh to gather their attention and lies, “Hey, Mom wants us back for dinner. Apparently we left the kitchen in a mess.”

Justin’s eyes focus on him, and they’re questioning. He’s confused—he knows they cleaned everything up in the kitchen, that there was hardly a mess in the first place. Scott, though, merely grimaces as Jeff laughs, saying, “If that’s the worst of Justin’s bad influence, I think you’ll be fine.” Zach looks a little unconvinced. 

Alex says, “Obviously, I’m the bad influence, Justin is an angel.” He beckons Justin, who starts following him instantly, mumbling a goodbye. Alex calls a, “See you later,” and leads Justin down to the door. 

As they step outside, Zach catches up, stopping Alex with a hand on his arm. “Hey, Alex, wait. Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Justin glances back, and Alex can see some of the anxiety in his eyes. Alex just wants to get him home, but something in Zach’s voice makes him pause, makes him feel like he has to listen. He tosses Justin the keys, and he catches them, giving Alex a short nod, a small smile. He lets himself into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind him and Alex allows himself to turn to Zach. 

“What’s up?”

Zach’s eyes flick to the car, to Justin, before settling back on Alex in concern. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “What?”

“C’mon, Alex. I know there’s something going on. Something’s definitely wrong with him and you know what it is. I’m guessing it’s not good, and I’m telling you you don’t have to deal with that yourself. You’re not obligated to do anything for him. Whatever it is, it’s not worth sacrificing your own head.”

Alex feels a prickle of anger spike through him. “So I should sacrifice Justin because I couldn’t be bothered to deal with it?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Look, I don’t think anyone else has noticed, but it’s obvious he’s not doing well. I know how deeply you get involved with this stuff. You care too much. You’re doing well right now. Don’t let this change that. Don’t get dragged in.”

“I’m already in, Zach,” Alex shakes his head, dropping his gaze. “I already care. I pushed for him to trust me. I’m not going to abandon him now. He needs someone to get involved. Can’t you understand that?”

“Why does that someone have to be you?”

“Because that’s just what happened. The universe made it me. And I’m glad. If you know he’s not okay, why haven’t _you_ done anything about it?”

Zach’s shoulders fall back, chin raising. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? Bryce is his carer.”

Alex tenses. “Bryce,” he says slowly, through gritted teeth, “is an asshole. You’re supposed to be Justin’s fucking friend. It’s not that hard.”

“He can make it pretty difficult.”

Alex simply stares at him for a minute. Then he lets out a sharp, irritated laugh and turns on his heel. He can’t believe him. He can’t fucking believe him. He thought, of all people, that Zach was better than that. Jesus. What the hell? Alex has always been so sure Zach actually cared about his friends, about Justin. About him. Zach’s supposed to be the nice guy. 

“Alex, wait,” Zach calls, grabbing onto his arm. Alex wrenches it out of his grip, but turns back to him. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve just been a shitty friend, okay? I’m not like you. I’m not brave enough want to know what’s going on. I care about Justin, alright? You know I do. But I care about you more, man. I don’t want to watch you get hurt over this. I’m telling you you can tell me, if you have to. I couldn’t make myself ask Justin, but I’m asking you. I’m here, too. I can help.”

Alex sighs, deflating. The anger slips away in an instant. “It’s not my place to tell, Zach. I mean it—it’s bad. It is. But the fact that he talked to me, that’s huge. That took a lot. I’m not going to push him or abandon him or betray his trust after that. He asked me not to tell, so I won’t. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself.”

Zach purses his lips. “How bad is bad?”

“Bad,” Alex says simply. It’s all he can give. 

“And it—it has something to do with Bryce?”

“Zach,” Alex shakes his head. 

“Okay. Sorry. I’ll stop asking. Just—you’re okay, right?”

“Yeah,” he assures. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just him being okay I’m focusing on.”

Zach sighs, likely not entirely pleased with that, and then he’s engulfing Alex in a hug. Alex makes a surprised noise but leans into him, wrapping his arms around him loosely. He always feels tiny next to Zach, and hugging him is a whole other thing. He’s completely engulfed, which is nice in a weird way. It’s different from hugging Justin, mainly. 

Zach’s hug is firm but still loose, friendly. It’s more casual than anything—he only holds on for a moment. Justin’s hug is tighter, closer, and he holds on. He makes it last for as long as he can and tucks himself in as close as he can get. Plus, he’s the one that wants to be held. They’re roughly the same size, Justin and Alex, and Alex is probably even an inch shorter, but Justin still seemed somehow smaller when Alex hugged him.

When Zach steps back he squeezes Alex’s shoulder and says, “Go do whatever it is you do for him, then. Text me.”

Alex rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh. “Sure, Mom.” Zach shoves him but grins and Alex jogs down to his car. 

When he gets into the car, Justin’s gaze is on his lap, where he’s anxiously twiddling his hands. Alex’s brow creases instantly, but he puts his key in the ignition and starts the car. He pulls out onto the street, about to tentatively ask if he’s okay when Justin speaks up first. “You were arguing.”

Alex glances at him. “What?”

“With Zach. You started walking away and he grabbed you and you looked mad.” Alex’s lips form a small ‘o’. He hadn’t thought Justin was watching. He supposes it’s a good thing Justin wasn’t that wrapped up in his own thoughts, but it was probably a weird thing to witness when he couldn’t hear what was being said. Oh, thank God he couldn’t hear what was being said. 

“Zach’s just an idiot sometimes, but it’s fine,” Alex brushes it off. 

Then Justin asks, “Was it because of me?”

Alex’s immediate reflex is to say no. It’s not like it was Justin’s fault; he hasn’t done anything wrong, but it’s likely he would still take it that way. But Justin’s opened up to him. He’s been so honest. Alex can’t repay him with lies. “You were mentioned.”

As expected, Justin shrinks in his seat. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” he mumbles, fingers clenching around each other. Alex wants to reach over and tug them apart, to hold Justin’s hand in his and rub his thumb over his knuckles like he does at night. Only this is in daylight, and he doesn’t really want to take his hand off the wheel only to end up killing them both. So he crushes the urge deep (deep) down and makes a noise of protest instead. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Zach just—he can tell there’s something wrong and he thinks I get over invested.”

“Do you?”

“He’s overreacting. I invest the necessary amount.” Justin doesn’t respond. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. He’s just worried, y’know? About both of us. He’s a secret worrier. I was glad you came, I just hate that you got upset.”

Justin clenches his fists. “I’m sorry.” His voice is shaky. “I don’t know what happened.” 

“What happened to no apologising?” Justin opens his mouth, likely to say sorry, before snapping it shut again. Alex sighs. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Justin. I’m sorry that I can’t help.”

Justin only shrugs and directs his gaze out the window. They don’t talk the rest of the way home. 

~^~

It’s just as quiet the rest of the evening, and Alex is warring with himself. He wants to help, but he doesn’t know how. He hates seeing Justin so quietly sad, so removed. He’d rather, at this point, that he was fighting with him. At least anger would be an emotion Alex knows how to deal with. 

He wants to bundle Justin up and hold him until he’s smiling again, but he’s keeping his distance, his heart flipping ever time he gets close with the worry Justin will flinch away. He could take Justin cursing at him, but he’s not sure he could take hurting him further. He’s hurting himself by leaving Justin to suffer, but he _doesn’t know what to do_. 

Justin eats the dinner that Alex makes him, at least, although he spends a good amount of time pushing it around the plate. Alex finally breaks the silence after that to say, “I don’t know what to say.”

The other boy only blinks at him. “About what?”

“I want to help, but I don’t know what to say.” 

“Oh,” Justin’s shoulders slump. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not and you don’t have to pretend to be. I know you’re not. Please don’t lie to me now.”

Justin picks at his sleeve. “I think I’m just tired.”

Alex gives him a quizzical look. He finds that hard to believe. “Really?”

“Yeah. I—I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“Oh. Okay.” Alex tries not to feel disappointed, or upset, or lost, or any of the things he’s feeling. He can’t help it, though. He’s becoming acutely aware of how useless he is in this whole situation. How is he supposed to help Justin, really? He’s gone through trauma that Alex can’t even begin to understand. What are the chances that Justin even wants his help? Maybe he regrets telling him. God, Alex hopes that’s not it.

Before the other boy can leave he asks, “Justin, you don’t—you don’t regret telling me, do you?”

Justin bites his lip. “Do you regret asking?”

“No,” Alex says, immediately. He thought, maybe, but no. He’s glad he pushed, he’s glad he stayed, he’s glad Justin opened up to him. The only thing he regrets is not being there for Justin earlier. For not having been able to stop any of it from happening. “Of course I don’t.”

“Then no. I don’t regret telling you.” Justin comes back, sits on the couch next to him. He knots his hands together in his lap and stares at them. “I just—it’s hard. To talk about. I can’t stop remembering all of it. Being there with you guys, it was like being at his house. I know it shouldn’t be but—I just kept thinking about it, then, and going back to school and having to—“

He cuts off, shakes his head. “I just. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone. But I don’t think staying here alone would have been good, either. I guess it’s just a bad day.”

Alex’s heart pinches. “I’m sorry. I should’ve just told Zach I wasn’t coming.”

“No,” Justin sounds appalled. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything like that for me. I’m the one who fucked up your day. I’m staying in your house. I’m messing up your life. How the hell can you apologise to me?”

“You’re not fucking up anything.” Justin doesn’t respond, hands curling into tight fists. Alex wants to reach out and open them, to hold on, to rub his thumb over the still bandaged knuckles. Maybe Jeff asking about that had set him off, too. Justin had told them the truth, though it had been the barest amount. He’d punched a wall, but the only reason they got was a shrug. They hadn’t pushed though, which he’s sure Justin is grateful for. 

“I mean it. Every time I say it, I mean it. I want you here. I want you to talk to me. You’re not annoying, or some problem I think I have to fix, or whatever else you’re thinking. I want to help and I don’t want anything in return.”

Justin closes his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It was my fault it happened. Nothing—nothing even _did_ happen.”

“Justin,” Alex says, and then doesn’t know how to continue. He knows what he means. That it didn’t go far, that it could’ve been worse. That he wasn’t actually raped by his best friend. That he wasn’t actually assaulted. 

Only he was, because Alex has seen the scars, the bruises. Most of his mother’s boyfriends had assaulted him, including (mainly) the current one. His best friend had betrayed him, had scared him, had held him down, would have assaulted him given an extra moment. Justin had suffered a whole world of abuse in his short lifetime and he wasn’t allowing himself to care. Didn’t think he should. Thought he had brought it on himself—that it had only happened because he deserved it. 

Alex doesn’t know what to say to convince him otherwise, so he doesn’t say anything at all. 

Justin stands again. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Justin,” Alex repeats, standing as well. “Wait, don’t.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? Please.”

Alex’s lips part. Then he turns his head away and nods. He expects that to be it; for Justin to walk out. Then there’s a body against his and arms around his waist and Justin’s hugging him. Without any prompt from Alex. Without any hesitation. It’s not careful, either. It’s tight, Justin pressing as close as he can get, tucking his head over Alex’s shoulder. 

Before he changes his mind, Alex hugs back. He curves his arms around Justin’s shoulders and relaxes. Making sure Justin knows this is okay. That he doesn’t mind. Even though he’s a little in shock that Justin initiated such full physical contact, he’s glad. He’s glad and relieved and a little honored. 

And then just as quickly, Justin is slipping away and disappearing out the door. Alex sighs and drops back onto the couch, putting his head in his hands. He wishes his parents were back early for once. He wishes Justin was able to talk to them, too, wishes they were able to help. Even to tell Alex what to do. Especially to tell him what to do. He wishes, even, that they were here just so he could sit with them. But they’re not. With Justin gone, he’s alone. 

He calls Hannah and Jess on FaceTime instead and just listens to them for an hour. He doesn’t mention Justin, and surprisingly, they don’t ask. They just talk about their days and Alex laughs and winces at appropriate times and feels momentarily normal. 

He wants until they hang up before going to bed, only to meet Justin coming out of the bathroom. He looks at Alex with tired eyes and rumpled hair, wearing a loose shirt and sweats. He doesn’t seem to have been sleeping. 

“You okay?” Alex questions softly. A nod. “Can’t sleep?”

Justin shakes his head, fiddles with the hem of his shirt. His hands never seem to still. “It’s cold.”

It is, Alex supposes, but he doubts that’s the real problem. If it was really bothering him that much, he could have put on a jumper. Alex understands not being able to sleep, has too much experience with it, has suffered with insomnia for years. He thinks too much, probably. It’s not hard to imagine Justin currently having the same problem. 

“My room’s usually warmer,” Alex says. Justin only looks at the floor. He shrugs and walks around Alex, who reaches out and touches his arm. He doesn’t flinch, but he stiffens for the smallest moment before settling again. Alex still notices. “Justin. Just come stay with me. There’s no point having your own room if you can’t sleep in it. I couldn’t sleep last night, either.”

Justin hesitates, but he raises his head. “We don’t have to talk,” Alex adds, a little desperately. “Just—just come stay.” 

After a moment, Justin nods. 

Relief floods Alex, and he gives Justin a smile. “Okay. Just give me like, ten minutes.” Justin nods again, and then slips into Alex’s room. Alex only takes seven minutes. 

When he comes in, the room’s dark and Justin’s lying facing the window. Alex slides into his side of the bed and faces his back. They’re not all that close, but Justin’s proximity still soothes Alex, still quenches the worry he didn’t even realize he’d been feeling. He can hear his breathing, can see the rise and fall of his body, and he’s grateful. He doesn’t have to be closer. His presence is enough. 

Then there’s rustling, and Justin is reaching his hand back, towards Alex. Alex takes it carefully, fingers slipping over the bandage, and Justin tugs. He pulls Alex’s hand around him, and Alex shifts closer, chest almost touching Justin’s back as Justin tucks Alex’s arm around himself. Justin settles their joined hands against his chest and Alex lets himself press closer still. 

He stays a little stiff, a little hesitant, until Justin curls back against him and squeezes his hand. He breathes a, “Thank you,” and Alex rests his head against his in response. 

“Sleep,” he orders softly, and Justin does.


	9. A Clear Blue Sky

_I got flaws I can't disguise_   
_And you tried to pull me to the light_   
_I can't go back and make it right_   
_And I wonder where you sleep tonight_

Alex wakes up, for the second time, surrounded by warmth. This time it’s along the length of his front, and it’s just as blissful. He doesn’t feel the usual aching desire to go back to sleep, but he feels like he _could_ , and it’s an incredibly pleasant feeling. 

An equally pleasant feeling is having Justin so close to him. Still asleep and breathing evenly and warm and safe. 

He curls closer to him and doesn’t feel the slightest bit bad about it. Justin had asked, in that silent way of his, and Alex is absolutely happy to comply. He felt so useless last night, when he couldn’t even think of what to say. Then Justin hugged him, and he stayed when Alex asked. It was the reminder, the reassurance, that Alex needed. This will be a slow process and a long one. But Justin’s still here. He is slowly opening up. Alex is helping. He just has to have patience. 

He has to trust that it’ll be worth it. 

Justin mumbles something quietly in his sleep and Alex holds him tighter, presses his nose into his hair. He rubs his thumb over Justin’s until he relaxes again. It’s barely bright, and it’s Sunday, so Alex gives in to the urge to close his eyes again. 

He’s half asleep when the door opens. 

“Alex, Justin isn’t in his room do you—“

His mother’s voice drops off and Alex twists his head awkwardly to look at her, finding his father as well. His mother’s lips part and Alex shushes her, moving his head a little away from Justin. She raises a brow. 

Alex wonders how this must look. He’s cuddling Justin Foley, in his bed, when the boy isn’t even supposed to be in the room. Surely this must be better than him having run off again, though. It’s not like they were doing anything wrong. It’s not like they were _doing_ anything at all. Still, Alex feels a need to defend himself. Them. The situation. 

“He couldn’t sleep,” Alex whispers. “I told him he could stay here.”

“That was very kind of you,” Carolyn muses, thankfully keeping her voice at the same level. “And here I thought we were doing a good thing setting up Peter’s room for him.”

They were, he supposes. They _are_. Justin should have his own space. But that night didn’t go so well. Justin had slept, yes, but not for very long, and the few hours he’d gotten had only brought him hurt. Afterwards, though, he’d slept soundly with Alex. He couldn’t manage to get any sleep last night, and after yesterday morning Alex couldn’t bear the thought of just leaving him alone. Now, here he is, sound. If putting him to sleep is all Alex can do for him, he’ll take it. 

“You know last time didn’t go well. He sleeps better with someone else there.”

“Someone else, or you?” Bill asks. 

“For now, yeah, I’m the someone else.”

His mother crosses her arms. “There was just no time to set up the mattress, hm?”

This is where Alex would begin gesturing, if his arms were free. But he refuses to let go of Justin and the other is still trapped between them. He settles for showing his exasperation on his face. “There was no need. In Peter’s room alone, he has nightmares. On the mattress, he has nightmares. Here, no nightmares. Would you rather I just ignore him?”

“No one said that, Alex,” Bill says softly. “We’re glad you’re looking out for him. We just don’t want you to feel like it’s your responsibility.”

“I don’t mind,” Alex argues. “It’s not some problem. I sleep better with him here, too.”

His mother’s face softens. She’s the most familiar with Alex’s own insomnia. Alex remembers her filling water bottles; getting him special pillows; playing relaxation music; staying with him and stroking his hair; all in a futile attempt to get him to sleep. She suffered a lack of sleep herself because of it, when Alex always woke her as a kid because he didn’t know better. He’s old enough now, though. To take care of himself. To take care of someone else. 

“Alex, come out here a minute, we don’t want to wake Justin,” his father asks. 

Alex shakes his head, tucking Justin closer to himself as explanation. “He always makes me promise not to leave. It can wait until he wakes up.”

He’s sure his dad’s going to argue, but he only purses his lips and nods. “I just want to ask if—has he talked to you? About anything?”

Alex debates. He doesn’t want to lie to them. He knows they won’t force anything out of him. He nods. “Yes. But it’s not my place to tell you anything.”

“Alex—“

“No. If I thought I had to, I would tell you. But if he wants you to know, he’ll talk to you himself. He decided to trust me and I’m not going to betray that.”

Again, he expects it to be pushed further. But his father only sighs, giving a small nod. “Alright. Just keep doing whatever you’re doing. You’re a good friend, kid.”

He leaves, but Carolyn stays another moment. She raises her brows. “Did he eat okay yesterday?”

Alex nods. “He came to Zach’s with me too.”

She smiles, bright and approving. “Good.” She gives him a little wink and then she’s gone, too. Alex presses his face back into Justin’s hair and huffs a breath out through his nose. Justin gives a little shiver and squeezes his hand. Alex’s eyes shoot open. 

“Are you awake?” he asks quietly, just in case. 

“Maybe,” Justin whispers back. Before Alex can respond (or panic) he’s having to move back as Justin twists around to look at him. He doesn’t let go of his hand as he gives him a sleepy smile. 

Alex bites his lip. “How long?”

Justin hesitates. “A while,” he admits. Then, when Alex closes his eyes, “I freaked out, and you seemed to be handling it well, and I didn’t want to fuck it up. Are they mad?”

“No, of course not. Why would they be mad at you?”

Justin shakes his head. “What about you? Are they mad at you? For not telling them?”

Oh. Alex sighs, squeezes his hand. “I don’t think they’re mad. I just think they’re upset they can’t help.”

Justin shakes his head again. “I’m already living in their house. They’re already doing too much.”

“Justin,” Alex starts to argue. 

“There’s nothing they could do. I don’t—I don’t like talking about it.”

“Maybe you should, though,” Alex says softly. “Is there anything you’d want them to do?” 

Justin won’t look at him. He shrugs, then slots himself next to Alex again, hiding his face in his shoulder. Alex drapes an arm around him and, without thinking about it, presses a kiss to the boy’s temple. Justin tenses for a moment and Alex hates himself and his stupidity. 

Then Justin settles close and says, quietly, “I’ll think about it.”

Alex grins, chest loosening in relief. “Okay,” he says, just as quiet. 

~^~

When they make it down to the kitchen, his parents are both sitting at the table. Alex stiffens, and it’s a mistake, because Justin instantly tenses behind him. Alex resists the urge to reach back and comfort him, but he does force his shoulders to relax before taking a seat across from them. After a second, Justin sits down next to him. 

Carolyn and Bill are both smiling at them. Carolyn places two plates of egg and toast in front of them. Alex stares at it, but Justin digs in immediately, putting his hand on display. Carolyn’s already seen it, of course, and she accepted Alex’s vague explanation, but he’s sure his dad won’t be so easily appeased. He zones in on it immediately and frowns. “What happened there?”

Justin looks up at him, then down at his hand, and Alex sees the instant of fear flash across his face. His grip tightens on the fork, pulling the bandage taut. “Nothing, it was stupid. I did it to myself.”

Alex understands almost instantly. He wishes he didn’t, and he wishes he was wrong, but he knows he isn’t. Justin’s scared. Knowing he’d done nothing wrong, that he’d only hurt himself, he’s still awaiting punishment. He doesn’t expect Bill to believe him. He only expects to be hurt again. 

Bill frowns. “Hell, kid. Does it hurt?” Justin shakes his head. “Did you bandage it for him?” He’s turned to his wife, but Alex keeps his attention on Justin. The boy hasn’t relaxed any, even though it seems obvious no one’s angry with him. Alex doesn’t want to reach for him, here. He doesn’t think Justin would accept it, not in sight of Alex’s parents, not when he’s already so anxious. 

Instead, Alex very carefully shifts his leg until it’s next to Justin’s, knees pressed together. Justin flicks a glance at him as Carolyn says, “No, Alex.”

Alex looks up at the sound of his name as Justin leans his leg against his. “What?” 

“You did the bandage?” Bill questions. 

“Oh, yeah.” He’s only half paying attention, still focused on Justin. The tension bleeds out of him with Alex’s touch, and even when Alex can’t visibly see any sign of distress he keeps his leg there. Alex has no reason to move, either, so he lets it be. Then, noticing his father is still looking at him, “It wasn’t that bad, and he wouldn’t have asked, so.”

Bill simply nods, though he looks a little mad still. No, not mad; frustrated. Alex silently urges him to meet his eyes. Just as he’s about to say something else Alex’s prayers work and he looks at his son instead. Alex shakes his head just slightly and Bill snaps his lips closed. He raises a questioning brow and Alex doesn’t want to, but he nods. It’s all he can do. 

They finish breakfast before Justin speaks up again. “Do you guys ever decorate for Halloween?”

Alex blinks. They usually do—he usually does. He always uses it to kill some time when his parents are at work. He’ll take any excuse for a distraction. He usually does it a couple of weeks before the holiday. Now, Halloween is on Friday and their house is lacking any orange or black. He’d completely forgotten about it. It’s not hard to guess why. “I usually do it. It just—slipped my mind, I guess,” Alex explains. Justin looks at him, understands, and drops his gaze. Maybe…. “There’s still time. We could do it today, if you want.”

Justin perks up again immediately. “Sure.” He grins, and it’s so obviously real Alex kind of wants to cry. It’s ridiculous and impossible to be that happy over Halloween decorations. Except, Alex understands. It’s likely Justin has never had the opportunity to celebrate the holiday in such a way. This is only Halloween. Alex can’t bear to think about Justin’s experiences with Christmas. 

Maybe he’ll be here for it, this year. Maybe Alex can give him a proper holiday. He can use Halloween as a test run. 

“I’ll dig out the decorations for you,” Carolyn says cheerfully. “Do you want to help me, Justin?” 

It’s an obvious attempt to get him out of the room, but Justin’s too happy to notice, only giving a chirpy agreement and following her out. Alex immediately covers his face with his hands and lets out a suffering sigh. He knows his dad’s looking at him, but the only explanation he offers is, “He’s like a little kid. Or a puppy.”

Bill huffs a laugh and ruffles Alex’s hair briefly. He takes Justin’s evacuated seat and waits. Alex lets his hands drop but doesn’t turn to look at him. “I hate this,” he sighs out.

“He seems like such a good kid. Bit of a dumbass, but a good kid,” Bill says, and this time Alex huffs. “I hate to think of him hurting himself. Of him being pushed to that point.”

Alex hates it, too. It makes him sick to his stomach, queasy with guilt that he didn’t stop it. That he let Justin leave his side in the first place, and that he didn’t go after him. Maybe Justin needed his space, and maybe Alex could never have stopped him, but he regrets it all the same. Justin’s experienced enough hurt for a lifetime. He doesn’t need to be bringing it on himself. 

“We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on, Alex,” Bill continues gently. 

Alex closes his eyes. “I know. _I know_. But I can’t tell you. I promised him. The fact that he’s trusting me right now—that’s everything. I can’t break it. I won’t hurt him. Not even if you think it’s the best way to help. There has to be something else.”

He waits for the argument, but there is none. “What else do you think we could do? How can we help? Without telling us anything.”

Alex presses two fingers to each temple and tries to think. What can they do? Is there anything, really, that would help? “He’s scared of you,” Alex says bluntly. He hears the answering sigh. “He doesn’t mean to be, but he can’t help it. Earlier, with his hand, he thought you weren’t going to believe him. He was waiting for you to get mad. He doesn’t think we want him here, not really, not without something in return. I think that—that you and Mom just being nice to him should help, but I honestly think it confuses him more than anything.”

Bill leans forward and crosses his arms on the table, thinking. “What if we gave him chores?”

“Chores?”

“He’s uncomfortable because he’s waiting for us to ask something of him. I’ll ask him to do the dishes. Dust down the living room. Help me clean out the shed. Whatever the hell he wants. He’s been subjected to physical punishment for trying to be a normal kid. Maybe if we actually treat him like one he’ll start understanding what’s happening to him is wrong.”

Alex blinks. “I never thought of that. That’s...a really good idea, actually. It might be a good idea for you to spend some time with him, one on one. Mom too. I mean obviously I’ll stay close so I can run interference if it comes down to it but I think it would be good. Cleaning out the shed could be a good bonding experience.”

“And it gets you out of doing it,” Bill says dryly. Alex only smiles and shrugs at him. “Do you think he’ll ever be comfortable enough to talk to us?”

Alex’s smile slips. “I’m trying to encourage him without pushing him. He said this morning that he’d think about it, but I don’t know. I think he should,” he sighs. Then, “But I’m not going to if he doesn’t. I can’t. Until he makes up his mind you just have to trust me with him.”

Bill smiles softly, settling a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve always trusted you with that, kid. I just wish it didn’t all have to rest on you.”

“I don’t mind,” Alex says instantly, again, and he means it. Justin could never be the burden on Alex that he thinks he is. He can be an asshole and a dumbass but he’s Justin, and Alex can never not care about him. “He’s one of my best friends.” It doesn’t taste like a lie; doesn’t feel heavy on his tongue. He means that, too, and it surprises him a little. 

His dad claps his shoulder. “I told you.” He gets up to leave, then pauses a few steps from the door. “We definitely waste our time with Peter’s room?”

Alex shrugs, gives a faint smile. “Apparently.” 

Bill hums, looking at him thoughtfully. Before Alex can ask, he’s gone. 

It’s lucky, because Justin comes back only seconds after and immediately dumps a bag on Alex’s lap. Alex is about to protest, complain, question, but all thought of words disappears at the small smile on Justin’s mouth and then he’s pulling a mask over Alex’s head. He fixes it in place over Alex’s eyes and gazes at him consideringly. Alex can only stare stupidly back until Justin’s small smile flicks into a grin. “You’d be a cute Prince Charming.”

Alex stares, open mouthed; but Justin simply reclaims the bag from his lap and saunters out of the room, tossing nothing more than an, “Are you coming?” over his shoulder. 

Alex manages to close his mouth before following him wordlessly. 

~^~

Decorating the house with Justin is even more fun than he expects it to be. There’s an almost permanent smile on Justin’s face, and it plants one on Alex’s in return. They have the inside decorated, banners and streamers hung over doorways and on the mantelpiece and the stairs, along with a few strings of pumpkin lights. There’s awful meshes of orange and purple and green and black everywhere and it’s wonderful. There’s a few plastic spiders they keep hiding around the place to scare each other, and it’s worked every time so far. Alex hasn’t seen such a mixture of laughter and curses from Justin in so long that he almost feels like he’s dreaming. 

They’re currently hanging a skeleton on the front door. It’s a little awkward, with these sticky hooks to stick it on at its neck, wrists, and ankles. Alex is attempting to do one side while Justin does the other. Alex is still struggling with the first one when Justin stands and says, “Done.”

Alex gapes at him and lets the bony arm in his hands drop. “What? How the hell did you do that?”

Justin shrugs, then raises an amused brow. “Do you want help?” Alex hands him the remaining hooks wordlessly and steps back to watch him work. “I tried to decorate at home one year.”

Alex stiffens. He doesn’t know whether to stay silent and wait to see if Justin says anything else, but even though he said it nonchalantly it feels important. Everything with Justin is always important. He asks, hesitantly, “Tried?”

Justin shrugs, and he keeps his back to Alex. “Mom was dating Seth at the time, so. He came back and asked why I’d wasted his money on something so stupid. I told him it wasn’t his. I’d used my own. He didn’t believe me. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care. The decorations didn’t stay up for long. Then I went to Bryce, and he asked why I’d wasted my own money on something so stupid.” He huffs a laugh. “There I was thinking he was going to decorate his place with me.”

Alex’s heart drops. He feels like he’s been punched. That’s why Justin was so happy when Alex asked him to decorate. He’d expected to be turned down or ignored. Brushed off; laughed at. He’d had that fear and he cares so much he’d asked anyway. 

Alex has to hug him. He steps up to his back and wraps his arms around the boy’s shoulders. Justin tenses for a mere millisecond before leaning back against him. “You’re decorating with me,” Justin says quietly. 

Alex squeezes him. “I’m decorating with you,” he agrees. Justin reaches up to touch his arm, lightly, briefly. It burns and imprints itself on Alex’s skin anyway. “Good thing, too, because it usually takes me an hour to hang this stupid thing up.”

Justin laughs, loud and free and easy and Alex turns his head towards the sound, towards him. He almost brushes his lips over the boy’s temple before thinking better of it. He’d done it unthinkingly this morning, but he thinks about it now. Justin’s finally opening up to him. Finally trusting him, finally getting comfortable here. The last thing Alex needs is to toss it away by being weird. Justin hadn’t reacted badly this morning, hadn’t seemed unhappy or uncomfortable, but still. It’s weird. 

Alex squeezes him once more instead before letting go. He isn’t sure if he imagines the flash of disappointment on Justin’s face. 

The activity keeps Justin happy the rest of the day. Alex sees him give the occasional glance to the paper pumpkins and plastic bats and form the tiniest smile. It’s horrible, but Alex is waiting for the moment it breaks. He knows, somehow, that it won’t last. He hopes he’s wrong and tries to enjoy Justin’s joy while it lasts, but the gnawing worry won’t leave him. 

He thinks that it’s going to happen when his dad sets their plan into action much sooner than expected. He asks Justin if he’ll help him clean out the shed, and Alex waits for his smile to drop. Justin looks surprised, but not unhappy. There’s no visible signs of worry, of any fear. He does, however, glance questioningly at Alex. Alex only shrugs, like he knows nothing about what his father is thinking, and grins. “Saves me from having to do it.”

It seems to relax Justin further. He rolls his eyes at Alex and turns back to Bill with a grin. “Sure, Mr Standall, anything you need.”

Bill raises his hand and Alex freezes. He’s only going to clap Justin on the shoulder, Alex knows it, but he doesn’t know how Justin would react to it. Thankfully, Bill thinks better of it at the last second and uses the hand to wave Justin out instead. Alex wasn’t paying as much attention to the other boy, but he doesn’t think Justin even noticed the moment. He heads out of the room in front of Bill without a second of hesitation. 

Alex allows himself to grin after them for a moment, and to hope for the best. He’s a little worried, but he also has faith. He knows his father’s profession has given him plenty of knowledge regarding these kinds of situations. He knows how to handle it, and there’s absolutely no possibility of him hurting Justin intentionally. Even if he doesn’t make much of an improvement, it shouldn’t do any harm. Alex still thinks the experience should settle a little bit of something in Justin, even if the boy doesn’t notice it. 

And if anything does go wrong, Alex is here to mend the aftermath. 

He realises, after spending the few minutes thinking about it standing alone in the kitchen, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself in the meantime. Then he feels a little pathetic. Justin has become a big part of his life, yes, and he occupies most of his time, but Alex had a life before him. Didn’t he? 

He shakes his head. Of course he did. He isn’t _that_ pathetic. He can find ways to occupy the time on his own. With that thought, he heads for his room and his video games. 

In a previous life (pre-Justin), this could have occupied him for hours. He’d let the pointlessness of it take over, enjoyed the mind-numbing experience that settled in once the controller was placed in his hands. He’s still excellent at it, and it doesn’t, therefore, require a lot of effort. It doesn’t take up his concentration. He usually wouldn’t have minded. Now (post-Justin), he can’t focus on it enough for it to be interesting. He only wastes twenty minutes on it before tossing the controller away. 

Maybe it’d be more fun if he played with Justin. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Alex mumbles to himself. He blows out a sigh and throws himself onto his bed instead. The minute he notices how weird it feels without the now familiar extra weight, he gets up and leaves his room. 

He finds his mom on the way down the hall and stops, wandering over and wrapping her in a hug from behind. She jumps slightly and he laughs, squeezing her shoulders apologetically. “Sorry, I thought you would’ve heard me,” he says, once she’s laughing with him. 

“I did, I just didn’t expect you to come over.”

“Am I that bad of a son?”

She laughs again, quiet and gentle. “Of course not. You’ve just been preoccupied lately, and I’ve been working a lot. I’ve gotten used to just seeing you here and there.”

Alex purses his lips and gives her another squeeze. “Sorry,” he murmurs. 

She reaches up to pat his arm, a different touch to what Justin’s had been earlier. “No, honey, don’t be. It’s more my fault than yours. I know we shouldn’t leave you in the house alone so often.”

“I’m not alone anymore, though,” Alex reminds her. “Justin’s here whenever I am.”

She hums. “I am glad, but I also don’t think it should make me feel any better. If anything I should feel worse. Your father and I should be here more for both of you.”

“I’m fine, really. And I don’t think Justin would really want you guys to be here all the time. It’s hard enough sometimes when it’s just me. But I think, if we hadn’t been alone so often, he wouldn’t have opened up to me so quickly. Or at all. You guys would have been there for him to hide behind.”

Carolyn wraps her hand around his wrist but otherwise gives no response. Alex doesn’t try to fill the silence, but lets her think it over. It probably doesn’t make it better. She doesn’t like the fact that her and Bill aren’t here for Justin, but Alex has just told her it’s probably better that way. It likely isn’t a relief to think your presence makes it worse. Alex doesn’t know what he would do if someone told him Justin would be better off if he stayed away. He doesn’t like to think he’d believe them, but the truth is that he probably would. He might punch them in the moment, but chances are he’d leave Justin alone anyway. 

He’s so immersed in the thought that when his mom speaks again she startles him. “How about we go speak on the couch, hm?”

Alex nods with another little laugh and lets her go. He pushes the thoughts out of his mind and follows her. When they’re both settled on the couch, she holds out her arm in offering. Alex immediately settles against her side and props his head on her shoulder. She wraps her arm around him and drops a kiss on his hair. “How has school been?”

“Okay, I guess.” It’s an easy enough question to start with, but Alex still isn’t sure how to answer. It is okay, mostly. He’s never been a fan of school, though, and his parents are keenly aware of this. He’s still failing calculus. Then there’s the other things, things like Montgomery De La Cruz and Bryce Walker. Montgomery’s usually a mild inconvenience at most, one of Bryce’s pets, but he gives Alex more grief than Alex feels the need to deal with. Then there’s the monster himself, whom Alex can’t even bear to think about. He usually tries not to let either of them bother him, but the simple sight of them manages to get under his skin. 

His mother rests her head on his. “Is that all I get?”

“I don’t know. I’m still failing calculus. I still hate people. Is that enough?”

She sighs. “That doesn’t sound all that okay. Didn’t Clay offer to tutor you in Calculus? You should sort something out with him. And who do you hate?”

Alex shrugs. “No one, mom. Everyone? I don’t know.”

She huffs a laugh and kisses his hair again. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do about that. But, you only have a year and a half left. You can last that long, can’t you?”

Alex hums. “Do I have a choice?”

“Afraid not, sweetheart,” she squeezes his arm. “But if you ever really need a break you’re allowed to ask, you know.”

“I know. Thank you.” They sit in comfortable silence for a while, but Alex knows that isn’t all she wants to ask. He’s glad of it, though. It’s lifted a little weight off his chest he hadn’t even realised was there. He knows they would give him a little time off if he asked, because he’d only ask if he really needed it, but it’s nice to be reminded of that. That they know it can get hard for him to handle and they’ll accept it without much argument. 

He just almost feels bad for even thinking about it. Getting up some mornings can be enough of a challenge, but he doesn’t really have anything to complain about. Justin could cry and whine and wield his pain as a shield, but he shouldered it and got on with things without a word. Until the evidence was shoved in his face, Alex hadn’t been able to tell he was breaking. He supposes he was the same. The quiet way Justin deals with it all astounds Alex, and gives him an odd sense of strength. Knowing what he does now, Alex doesn’t think he’d ever be able to take the day off because he felt like it and let Justin fend for himself. 

The boy’s name popping up again finally convinced Alex to speak up. “You’re allowed to ask.”

“I was hoping you’d just tell me.”

“There’s not a lot I can say. I’m trying my best to take care of him.”

Carolyn squeezes his arm again. “I know. He’s lucky to have you. I know your dad has already asked you about it, but do you mind if I do too? How bad is it, really? Is there anything at all we can do?”

“Honestly?” Alex says lowly. “I don’t know. He seems convinced there isn’t. I think it was pretty hard for him to say it at all, and I understand, but I still think he has to talk about it. I don’t want to force him, though, and I refuse to betray his trust, so. It’s a waiting game.”

Carolyn sighs and wraps her other arm around him. “I hate that I know he’s hurting and I can’t do anything about it. I can’t even see it, most of the time. If I didn’t know for certain that it was there…. I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Me either,” Alex agrees. “That’s what I hate most. That I could have—I could have stopped it. I could have done something earlier. I should have at least been there for him, but I didn’t even realise I had to be. Now that I can see it it seems so obvious. I can’t help doubting everything. I can just try to not let anything hurt him anymore.”

“I didn’t know this is what would happen. We didn’t mean to put this responsibility on you.” 

Alex shrugs. “I wanted it. He’s my friend. I should’ve been taking care of him the whole time.”

“You seem to be doing an okay job now.”

“You think so? You don’t think I’m making it worse?”

His mother shifts to look down at him. “What?”

Alex leans out of her grip with a sigh and thinks about it. He can’t fully explain his worries to her. She doesn’t have all the information, and it makes explanations difficult. He’ll have to be vague in what he says, general. If he starts trying to be specific something is bound to slip out. He’s not sure he’s going to be able to tell his mother enough to earn a response that will assuage his worries. “I just...I don’t know if I’m taking advantage of him.”

“How would you be doing that?” Carolyn asks, and she sounds so genuinely confused Alex relaxes a little. 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Just. He’s obviously not in a good place, and I’ve been pushing him a lot. Obviously I want him to trust me but I don’t know if he actually does or if he’s just so lost he’ll hold onto any life raft he’s given.”

It’s a messy explanation, and even Alex isn’t really sure what he means, but it’s the best he can do. He can’t help but wonder if Justin is only clinging to him because Alex is the only person so far that has provided him with any form of real comfort and affection. If he’s lulled Justin into his security with soothing hands and throwaway promises. It’s not like he doesn’t mean them, not like the security’s false, but still. It seems too much too quickly. It’s only been a couple of weeks since Justin got here. He shouldn’t, realistically, be as comfortable around Alex yet as he is. 

Alex thinks of Justin’s fierce attachment to Bryce and feels a little queasy. Bryce had provided for Justin what the Standalls are offering now—a safe house. Bryce was Justin’s go to when he couldn’t stay at home. When he needed a roof over his head or food in his stomach. Bryce had taken advantage of that vulnerability. He’d thought, in his sick mind, that what should have been unthinking friendship required payment. He’d thought Justin would give it to him without argument; and he’d almost been right. It makes an ugly sort of sense for Justin’s survival instincts to be minimal. Compliance and acceptance meant safety, or as little pain as he could get. Alex is just glad they kicked in when they did. 

But isn’t Alex now in Bryce’s position? Isn’t he the one promising refuge, a safe house and a full stomach? Is he, through questioning Justin, taking advantage of that same vulnerability? 

Justin’s one of the kings of Liberty High. Bryce is the other, but he’s bound to fall if Justin decides to tug on the throne. Alex could claim his vacant spot. He could be king at Justin’s side, because if Justin wanted to he could put him there. It would be that simple. Is that what Alex wants? Somewhere in his subconscious, is he doing all of this to earn his own safety net—a place at Justin’s side? If the thought didn’t revolt him further, Alex would consider it. 

Only he doesn’t care about popularity. He likes to be liked, yes, and it was a relief winning over Justin and the others initially. Being in their group is safety enough and provides him with all the comfort he needs. He doesn’t want to be held on a throne. He thinks he would hate it, actually. He enjoys being hidden in plain sight, accepted and known as one of them and nothing more. He knows he isn’t in this for personal gain. 

Still, he cares about the cause too much to skip over any possibilities. His aim is to keep Justin from any more harm. If necessary, that includes Alex himself. 

“Honey,” Carolyn brings him back to the present, gaze and voice equally soft as she tilts a disbelieving smile at him. “I doubt that any part of you is even capable of causing harm to that boy. I think causing him pain would bring more hurt on you than anything else.”

Alex considers this, then smiles wryly. She’s right, and they both know it. She must be able to see it in his expression because her smile widens before she leans back in to kiss his forehead. “I get it,” she promises. “I have an equally over-caring nature. It’s why you’d be a great nurse.”

He raises a brow. “Or why it would be a horrible idea.” Alex tends to care too much and obsess over things. He isn’t sure being in the medical profession would be a good decision.

She accepts that with a shrug before asking, “Do you want to watch Netflix? I feel like being lazy the rest of the day is something a normal family would do.”

Alex huffs a laugh and goes to fetch his laptop.

~^~

They have four and a half episodes of Friends watched before Bill and Justin come back in. Alex tenses unconsciously before he sees Justin’s smile, and it takes another moment of staring to convince himself it’s real. It widens as soon as he meets Alex’s eyes, and he squeezes onto the couch next to him without a moment’s pause. He steals some of the popcorn Alex had made himself from the bowl on Alex’s lap and Alex stares at him still. 

“All done?” Carolyn asks, and Alex swivels his head to look at his father. 

“I think so,” Bill nods. “Justin’s a good worker and he complains less than Alex, so it was a quicker job than I thought.”

Alex rolls his eyes, but Justin brightens a little at the praise and he can’t help but smile. He manages to catch his dad’s eye and Bill shoots him a grin, gives an almost imperceptible nod. Nothing had gone wrong, then. He looks back over to Justin, who’s still eating Alex’s popcorn with a small smile on his face. He’s still and relaxed next to Alex—content. It’s a good look on him. 

He must sense eyes on him, because he looks up at Alex questioningly. Alex raises a brow at him. “Did you have fun?”

He means it almost sarcastically, but Justin only smiles and nods at him. His smile gets wider, a little mischievous, and he says, “There’s a few boxes of old photo albums and stuff. It was interesting.” 

It takes a moment for understanding to sink in, and then Alex whips his head around to look at his dad. “You didn’t.”

Bill holds his hands up placatingly. “He found them himself. I had nothing to do with it.” Alex isn’t sure whether or not to believe him, but with a glance at Justin he accepts it. Justin looks too pleased with himself to be anything less than guilty. He reaches for another handful of popcorn so Alex moves the bowl out of his reach. The smile slides off his face and Alex instantly regrets it. 

Justin only nudges his arm fondly, though, and tries, “You were a cute baby.” Alex side eyes him. He knows what’s in those albums. His bangs phase is tucked away in there somewhere, and the thought of Justin witnessing it is somewhat mortifying. 

It’s just that the other boy seems genuine. He’s looking at Alex with a teasing but fond smile and Alex’s heart does a funny little flip in his chest. He sets the bowl on Justin’s lap with a sigh and smiles when the younger boy does. 

“I bet you were a sickeningly cute kid,” Alex says, offhandedly. 

Justin only shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think there’s any pictures.”

Alex’s smile drops, but he forces the crestfallen expression from his face before Justin can notice. He feels awful. He hadn’t even considered things like that. The thought of not having baby photos was never one that crossed Alex’s mind, and the idea of having no evidence of Justin’s childhood saddens him. He’s sure he was adorable. It’s depressing to think there’s no proof of it. 

“Oh, you don’t need them. It’s obvious, sweetheart, just look at you. You would’ve been the cutest baby,” Carolyn mends Alex’s slip with a coo, leaning over him to pinch Justin’s cheek. 

Justin laughs, shy and surprised and happy, and Alex grins. Maybe, just maybe, they’re getting somewhere. 

When his parents leave Justin’s head drops instantly onto Alex’s shoulder. The gesture is so unthinkingly trusting, so naturally comfortable, that Alex’s heart does the flip thing again. He smiles slightly, tilting his head over against Justin’s. “Tired?” Alex asks. Justin hums. “Well, you’ve had a busy day.” Justin huffs. “Are you laughing at me?” Alex looks down at him. 

“You’re such a mother,” Justin mumbles. Alex makes a noise of disagreement and Justin huffs again. “‘Well, you’ve had a busy day’,” he mocks, voice sugary soft. “I’ll give you a bath and then we can go to bed and I’ll read you a bedtime story—“ Alex elbows him gently and he laughs. 

“Asshole. You’re not getting storytime anymore.” 

Justin only laughs again, adjusting himself against Alex’s side until he can slouch there comfortably. He shifts the (almost empty) bowl of popcorn back to Alex’s lap so he can curl his legs up. “I am tired, though,” he admits. 

Alex nods. “It’s not even seven, though,” he points out, earning a quiet groan. “How about we have dinner then watch a shitty movie or something until it’s a more reasonable time to go to sleep? Think you can manage that?”

He’s answered only with a tired hum, so he takes it as affirmation. Dinner passes without incident, and Justin sits quiet but content at his side. It’s the most smiley Alex has seen him since he got here. Afterwards, they all settle themselves in the living room. Alex’s laptop is still set up, so he lets his parents pick a movie and settles down beside Justin with a new bowl of popcorn. Alex doesn’t pay all that much attention to the movie, realises it’s a rom-com he’s already watched and zones out. For as tired as Justin was, he seems intent on it. Alex almost wishes he was still tired and had chosen to spend the film half asleep on Alex’s shoulder, only because of his own sudden sleepiness and the desire to be able to rest his head on Justin’s soft hair, to shift closer to his warmth. For a moment, he debates settling on Justin’s shoulder for a change, then brushes it off. If Alex asked, Justin would say yes, whether he wanted to or not. If Justin wanted to be nearer to Alex, he’d take the initiative himself. So far he hasn’t, so Alex isn’t going to overstep. There’s a vague but certain line somewhere, and Alex is going to try his best to avoid ever crossing it. 

When they finally head up to bed, Justin’s drowsiness seems to creep back in. He heads straight for the bathroom, so Alex goes to get changed and tries to ignore the sudden anxiety churning in his chest. What if Justin doesn’t want to stay in his room again? What if he doesn’t think Alex wants him to stay in his room again? Alex hasn’t actually told him he can. Maybe Justin thinks the offer only stood for one night. Alex should have made it clearly. Surely he’s made it clear indirectly, though. Justin has to know Alex would never turn him away. 

Alex thinks then about how much Justin has suffered and realises that might not be the best assumption. 

But maybe, if Justin returns to Peter’s room, it’s because he wants the space. Maybe he doesn’t _want_ to stay with Alex. So, Alex shouldn’t push. But what if he does want Alex and doesn’t think he’s allowed, isn’t going to ask? If Alex offered, would he feel the need to accept? Would he feel like he had to decline? Would Alex phrase it wrong, use the wrong tone, wear the wrong expression, and make Justin think he wanted space instead? If Alex asked, and Justin said yes, would he feel irrationally guilty? If Alex asked, and Justin said no, would he feel disappointed? 

Alex groans out loud, curses to himself, and tugs his shirt on to cover up his thoughts. He doesn’t usually overthink this much. Well, maybe he does, but it doesn’t usually cause this much anxiety in his chest. Well, maybe it does, but he usually doesn’t notice it as much. 

He’d been so sure of himself at the beginning. The aim, his purpose, was to help Justin. This had been such a certainty in his mind then that he didn’t have room for doubt. He’d just been so obsessed with getting through to Justin, with understanding. He hadn’t thought he might not want to know. That thought only creeped in when Justin started telling him his story, and it sinks a heavy feeling into Alex’s gut now. 

He’d wanted to know so desperately. To understand the problem so he would know how to help. Now that he knows, he can’t help but second guess everything. It’s worse than he expected, he thinks, more than he was willing to prepare for. He doesn’t know how to help someone through what Justin’s going through. He doesn’t even know where to begin. He’s lost and overlain with a constant, niggling worry that he’s doing something wrong and for Justin’s well-being in general. 

He forces himself to stop thinking about it for now, to leave some turmoil for later if he is left to lie awake with his thoughts. He opens the door and almost bumps into Justin before reeling back and hitting his shoulder against the doorframe. 

He hisses out a curse and Justin’s face creases with worry, one hand coming up to hover searchingly over Alex’s shoulder. “Shit, sorry, are you okay?”

“Mmm,” is all Alex allows himself to say, grinding his teeth for a second until the jolt of pain fades. Then, after letting his breath back out, “I’m good. I bruise like a peach so that’ll be nice, but it doesn’t hurt, I promise.”

Justin runs his gaze over him, as if looking for physical evidence that Alex is lying or perhaps some other, magical injury before nodding. He bites at his lip for a second, rubbing a hand down his bare forearm before asking, “Can I borrow a sweater?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Take anything you want,” Alex says, too quickly, too formal. Justin quirks a brow at him, but it’s amused. He is shivering a little, though, and he rubs his hand over his arm a couple more times. Alex himself is only wearing a t-shirt, simply because he hates feeling too warm on top of everything else when he’s trying to sleep. It’s cold, though, and getting colder, but he’ll dig out extra blankets before resorting to extra clothes. But if Justin wants to wear anything of Alex’s, Alex isn’t going to stop him. 

He’s a little worried that’s the only reason Justin was heading for his room, though. 

“We should go get you some more clothes. Warmer ones. It’s gonna be a long winter if all you own is t-shirts,” Alex says. 

“I have sweaters,” Justin brushes off. 

Alex raises a brow. “Obviously not enough.”

Justin squeezes his arms around himself. Alex is suddenly aware that he may have said something wrong, but he can’t quite figure out what. Then, Justin mumbles, “I can’t afford any more,” and he understands his mistake. 

“Oh. I know. I mean—I’d buy them for you. We’d buy them. For you. My parents and I.” Justin purses his lips. “No payment needed, Justin. You know that. Paying for your hospital bills when you get pneumonia would be a lot more expensive. Let me take you shopping so you can buy a few goddamn sweaters or jackets or something. I don’t mind you wearing mine, but you’re bound to get tired of them eventually.”

“I like your sweaters,” Justin says, as if that’s the most important part of the conversation. 

“Great. I like that you like them. You can buy yourself copies and we can match. That work?”

Justin punches his shoulder, but cracks a smile, so Alex knows he’s won. “Okay. We can go shopping. As long as we never have to match.”

“Fine by me,” Alex grins.

He moves out of the way and watches Justin slip past him before going to the bathroom. He washes up quickly, then spends a ridiculous amount of time standing there, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He doesn’t look any different. There’s no outward physical change. It’s only an internal blip, this feeling that someone’s reached through his skin and subtly rearranged something on the inside. It doesn’t hurt. The only painful part is the not knowing, the lack of understanding, the inability to figure out what’s changed and when and why. It’s there in his eyes, he thinks, just barely visible in their depths. He reins it back in, pulls himself back into his usual shape, before shaking himself out of it and leaving the bathroom. 

When he gets into his room, his eyes immediately find the lump on his bed and the new organisation of his insides settles a little more firmly into place. The gap he hadn’t even noticed in his chest fills when he slips under the covers next to Justin. Justin rolls over to face him, and Alex slowly holds his arms out in offering. Justin shuffles into them without any hesitation. Alex starts to smile, but his expression freezes when Justin puts a hand on his chest to stop him before he can pull him in. Alex waits as patiently as he can while Justin’s eyes flit over his face. 

Finally, Justin speaks. “Did you ask your dad to be nice to me?”

Alex blinks. Stares at him. “What?” 

“Your dad. Did you tell him to do that today?”

“I…” Alex doesn’t see a point in lying. “I may have said that I think spending more time with them would make you more comfortable. But it was his idea to ask you to help him clean out the shed. When I mentioned it I didn’t tell him it had to be one on one, or that it had to be for so long at once. And I didn’t tell him to be nice to you. He just...is. He’s always liked you.”

Justin starts fiddling with the end of Alex’s sleeve. Alex doesn’t even think he’s aware of it. “I can’t help but feel bad about it. They don’t have to let me stay here, and I don’t do anything to repay them. It’s too much.”

Alex’s lips press into a tight line. “It’s not like you’re a bother. You clean up after yourself. I mean, you always help me when it’s just the two of us. You do your own laundry. You help Mom with whatever when she asks. And obviously it’s the same with Dad. You do as much as I do. It makes sense they’d treat you just the same as me.”

“You’re their son,” Justin says the words slowly, as if making sure they’re a good argument. Figuring out if it’s a good way of brushing Alex’s reasoning off. Knowing that it is a natural, valid dismissal but not fully understanding it himself. Justin has never had any privileges for being anyone’s son. He doesn’t know what it’s like, to be fed and held and cared for by someone just because. He doesn’t know what it’s like just to be treated _fairly_ ; like a normal human being. 

“Exactly. They’re stuck with me. But they chose to take you in. You’re repaying them as much as you need to. You don’t have to repay kindness. It’s meant to be given freely. Justin, look at me. This doesn’t have to cost you anything. Do you understand me?”

Justin stares at him, wanting to believe it and unwilling to allow himself to. Eventually, he gives a tiny nod. “Okay,” he breathes. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Alex agrees. He pulls the younger boy into his chest, and Justin falls asleep without arguing any further. 

~^~

On the drive to school in the morning, Justin doesn’t say a word. His fingers drum on his thighs, twist anxiously together, and rake through his hair in no particular pattern. Eventually, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. It’s really a lovely garment. It hangs a little looser on Justin’s frame than it used to. 

“We could ditch,” Alex says, as he pulls into a parking space. “I could drive back out and we could just keep going.”

Justin shakes his head, chewing on his lip. It’s becoming a nervous habit. “I can have lunch with you today, right?” 

“Of course. Ignore Clay if he says anything.”

“I don’t care about Jensen,” Justin brushes off, but his shoulders relax a little anyway. Alex smiles slightly. 

“You can hang out with us until we have to go to class and at lunch. You don’t have to ask.”

Justin nods. He’s still staring out the window. “It sucks that we don’t have any classes together.”

Alex crosses his arms on the steering wheel and leans his head against them. “I know.” Then, quietly, “Do you have any classes with him?” 

Justin nods again, wordlessly. His expression doesn’t flicker. Alex bites down a sigh. “Well, the offer still stands. We can go at any time. If you need me, just come find me,” Alex says. 

“I’ll be fine,” Justin bites. 

Alex studies his profile, the tension in his shoulders. “You’re not a morning person, are you?”

Justin flicks him a bored look and gets out of the car. Alex smiles, too amused to be annoyed, and follows him. 

They walk up to the school together, and Alex is instantly aware of the eyes that follow them. Justin doesn’t seem to be. Alex assumes he’s gotten used to the weight of their stares on him, but Alex has to try not to fidget uncomfortably under the attention. There’s nothing particularly astounding about them, but there doesn’t have to be. Justin himself is enough to attract the eyes of the entire school. 

Alex wonders, not for the first time, just what he’s gotten himself into. 

He wonders if he’s also the reason for some of the attention. He’s been taking Justin to school for the past week and a half and everyone knows it by now. Only, Justin usually goes on ahead of him, walks into the school alone. Today he’s not even a foot from Alex’s side, shoulders straight and head held high next to him. It’s enough to make Alex straighten his own back and ignore the attention.

Everyone knows they’re friends, and Alex has given Justin the occasional ride to school every now and again. But to have it happen for a full week and a half without fault, and then again the next Monday...people are bound to be curious. It’s clear that something isn’t right; the kings have been separated for too long. People are going to notice their distance today, and Alex wonders what the response will be like. Or if there’ll be one. 

He wonders if Bryce will give one. 

Alex shifts a little closer to Justin’s side without thinking about it. He wonders if it’s possible to form a protection squad without giving anyone a reason. He thinks the guys would do it without question. Well, no, there’d probably be a lot of questions, but they’d still do it when Alex refused to give them any answers. He pushes the thought from his mind. Justin is a big boy. Alex will offer as much silent protection and support as he can, but giving Justin multiple personal bodyguards might be a bit much. He thinks, if Justin found out, he really might punch him. Or run away again. Alex doesn’t have the energy to deal with that. 

If Justin’s really going to ignore Bryce, though, it’s going to be equally obvious. Whatever happens will be the talk of the school. Plus, if Justin leaving is also going to cost him another four groupees, Bryce is bound to snap at some point. Alex just hopes he and the others will be there to take some of the hits. 

When they actually pass through the doors to the school, the stares become more obvious. Alex feels even more trapped under their weight than he usually does, but he shakes it off. He’s not going to abandon Justin because of a mild inconvenience. Justin shifts at his side, and Alex toys with the idea that maybe he’s not immune after all. “Do people usually stare at you this much?” Alex asks quietly. 

Justin shrugs. His hand tightens around the strap of his bag. “Occasionally.”

Alex accepts that’s as much as he’s going to get and takes extra long steps to the corridor that houses their lockers. He accompanies Justin to his first, shifts from foot to foot as he waits, then leads him down the hallway towards his own. Zach’s already there, shoving books into his bag two doors down from Alex. He looks up at the sound of Alex’s locker opening and gives them a small grin. Alex tries to offer one back then nods instead when it doesn’t feel right on his face. 

Justin takes his bag and holds it for him when Alex nearly drops the whole thing on his foot and Alex smiles gratefully. He gets his books exchanged in record time and recollects his bag from Justin as Zach joins them. He holds his fist out. After Alex bumps it, he offers it to Justin, who returns the gesture mindlessly. Alex smiles slightly. 

There’s a whole list of questions in Zach’s gaze as he looks at Justin, but he doesn’t voice any of them. Alex guesses at what some of them might be. He’s wondering if this means what he thinks it means—if the kings really have fallen out. If that means everyone’s fallen out. If they’re free of Bryce; if they have to stay clear of Bryce. If Justin’s their’s now instead, or Alex’s, if this is going to shift the dynamic of their whole group. He’s wondering at the extent of the damage. Alex guesses he’s been able to guess bits and pieces, at least about Justin’s home life. He’s wondering what it is and how much of it Alex knows and what effect it has on them both. He’s eyeing the minimal space between them and looking them both over for injuries he knows are impossible to see. 

“You grow any balls since we saw you or do you still need a wingman?” Alex asks, just to break the growing silence. He likes being quiet when it means he isn’t drawing attention—when the attention’s already on him, he just gets irritated and antsy. It’s too early to be getting agitated. 

Justin huffs something like a laugh as Zach scowls. The scowl quickly drops into a defeated expression, though, as he sighs out a, “Yes.” It’s obvious enough which question he’s answering even before he turns hopeful eyes on Justin. 

Justin tucks his hands into his pockets and smirks, and it’s the most Justin Foley like Alex has seen him look in ages. “It’s okay, man, I’ll chat her up for you.”

It takes Zach a minute to figure it out, and by the time he does he has to turn to scowl at Justin’s retreating figure as he saunters down the hall ahead of them. “Fuck you, Foley,” he mutters as he catches up to him, and Justin’s laugh is a balm to Alex’s fraying nerves. He trails after them with a shake of his head and a smile growing on his face. 

~^~

Alex spends the day anticipating lunch and all the things that could go wrong in the hour long period. 

They just about make it that far. 

When Alex gets to their table in the cafeteria, Hannah, Jessica, Clay, and Tony are already there. Alex settles next to Hannah in his usual seat, and is greeted with, “Has he finally ditched you again?”

Alex’s eyes land on Clay slowly, and he flicks his brows up. “Excuse me?”

“Your new roommate,” Clay clarifies. “I thought it was going to become a thing.”

“He hasn’t ‘ditched me’,” Alex air quotes, “so fuck you. He’s having lunch with us again and so are the others.”

“Everyone knows Alex drove him to school again, Clay,” Hannah points out. “He obviously hasn’t ditched him.”

Clay shrugs defensively. “He could’ve ditched him since then. I just assumed when I saw him hanging out with Bryce you got rid of him again.”

Alex freezes. “You...what?”

“I passed them on the way here. I figured they were heading to lunch together.” Clay looks at him oddly. “Are you okay, Alex?”

Alex barely hears him. He’s already on his feet and about to make a beeline for the door before he thinks to demand, “Where?”

“Outside the lab. Alex, what—“

Alex is gone before he can finish the sentence. He knows he’s being weird, he’s too panicked, drawing too much attention, but he doesn’t have the mental presence to stop, or even slow down. The only thing running through his head is Justin and the possible danger he might be in. A small, sick, realistic part of Alex always considered the possibility of Justin returning to Bryce willingly. It flickers through his mind now and he shoves it away angrily, refusing to believe it. Justin made it clear this morning that he wanted to stick with Alex. He can’t have changed his mind since then. He just can’t have. 

The most likely possibility is that Bryce cornered him. It’s also the one that causes Alex the most distress. The labs are only a corridor away from the cafeteria, but it’s taking Alex too long to get there. The sight that greets him only manages to increase his panic. 

He sees Justin first. The boy’s expression is blank and he looks unharmed, but tension is laced through his whole body, every muscle locked into place. Then he sees Bryce, looming and cocky and not at all bothered by Justin’s pain. Then he sees Montgomery, and Scott, and a bunch of other jocks Alex never bothered to remember the names of. 

Anxiety twists into a knot in his stomach but he tries to straighten his shoulders and heads for Justin’s side. He’s stopped in his tracks halfway there when Jeff appears and slings an arm over Justin’s shoulder. Justin flinches—Alex sees it, which means Bryce probably does too. Jeff doesn’t miss it, either, but instead of retreating he squeezes Justin’s shoulders. 

“Hey, Foley, you still having lunch with us?” Jeff asks casually, completely ignoring the group of boys leaning against the wall. 

Alex’s blood churns at the sound of Bryce’s voice. “‘Course he’s having lunch with us, Atkins. Who the fuck else would take him?”

Alex manages to unstick himself long enough to make it to Justin’s other side, and he relishes in the way Bryce’s jaw twitches when he explains, “When Jeff said us, he meant me.” Justin starts again, but then relaxes, seeming to sag with relief. Alex wants to reach out and pat him down, or reassure him, but he keeps his hands to himself. He knows how easily a few spiteful words from Bryce could destroy any further contact between them. If Alex tried to touch him and Bryce made a comment, he’s worried any comfort Justin currently finds in him would be lost. He doesn’t want that. 

So when Jeff loosens his grip, ready to pass Justin over to Alex’s care, Alex meets his eyes over the younger boy’s head. Alex isn’t sure exactly what he’s trying to convey, but Jeff seems to understand something, because he simply adjusts his grip instead. 

“You’re still sleeping with Standall, Justy?” Bryce asks, tone laced with annoyance and tainted with a hint of disgust. “If you wanted a guy I’m sure we could’ve found you a real one.”

“Original,” Alex deadpans. “You were just complaining that you were stuck with him, right? So you won’t mind if I take him off your hands.”

“The fuck do you want with him anyway?”

Alex keeps the deadpan tone. “He’s good for my reputation. I was getting bored.”

“Who the fuck cares, man?” Montgomery speaks up. “Let the fags have each other.”

Jeff takes a threatening step forward, then stops when he realises he’s dragged Justin with him. Before he can make it worse, Alex says simply, “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Montgomery.”

Monty straightens, but the warning in Jeff’s expression stops him from moving. His eyes flash. “Fuck you, Standall.”

“No, thanks. You’re not man enough.”

This time Jeff has to stop him with a hand on his chest. They stare each other down, and Jeff’s face is tight with disappointment. Alex wasn’t here to witness whatever history the two have, but Zach’s told him about it. Monty used to be under Jeff’s care and protection. As far as Alex knows, he has a home situation almost as shitty as Justin’s. Jeff had been his best friend, his lifeboat, in the way he’d taken him in and did what he could to soothe the damage. Then he’d left for the summer, and the few short months were long enough for Bryce to wriggle his way in. Alex assumes Monty had gotten desperate. It’s possible he’d felt betrayed and abandoned by Jeff’s absence, and it made him vulnerable and then bitter. Whatever Bryce had done that summer made Montgomery unflinchingly loyal, as heavily reliant on Bryce as Justin was. 

He was thoroughly brainwashed by the time Jeff returned, and unable to be reclaimed. Alex doesn’t think Jeff’s ever really forgiven himself, the regret on his face visible every time they see each other. He never talks about him—never so much as mentions his name. The others have learned to avoid the topic as well. It’s a strange benefit, in some ways. They avoid each other as much as possible, but despite their apparent indifference Montgomery would never lay a hand on Jeff. Whatever fragmented ends of their bond remain inside him prevent him from even entertaining the idea. If anyone goes after Bryce, Montgomery is usually the first guard dog placed in their path. Alex thinks, though, if it ever came to a confrontation with Jeff, the boy would steer clear. It’s convenient, with Alex’s smart mouth and now Justin’s abandonment, to be under Jeff Atkin’s protection. 

Montgomery and Justin, on the other hand, are mirror cases and polar opposites. The violence Monty has endured has bled into him, made him reckless and unpredictable and uncontrollable. He’s let his pain manifest and curl into a vicious anger, ready to lash out through his fists at the slightest provocation. He has an equally vile mouth and Alex has wanted to put his fist through it more times than once. His personal background and his history with Jeff doesn’t make Alex hate him any less. He has no pity for Montgomery. 

Justin has suffered through his pain silently and shoved it down inside himself, refusing to let it taint anyone else. He has a temper and a bite when he needs it, whether to protect himself or those he cares about. Otherwise he remains kind and charming, cloaking a quiet, deep sadness that Alex hadn’t noticed a few weeks ago. 

The thought of Justin having gone down the same path, of him being senselessly violent, hateful, _cruel_ is unfathomable to Alex. He’s so naturally soft-hearted that Alex can’t even imagine it. He can be an asshole, yes, but Alex understands why. He can be an asshole himself, sometimes. As a natural, instinctive defensive reaction. Alex can’t hold it against him. 

He doesn’t have pity for Justin, either. Justin wouldn’t want it. He just cares. 

Bryce rolls his eyes and knocks a hand against Monty’s shoulder, drawling, “What happened to ‘who the fuck cares’? Standall’s face isn’t worth the bruised knuckles.” Monty falls back, sulking, and Alex wants to give a sarcastic round of applause. He knows Bryce well enough to know it’s a show of power. He wouldn’t outright hurt Jeff, but he obeys Bryce’s every order. It’s a clear reminder, and the subtle roll of Jeff’s eyes means he knows it too. 

“Are we done?” Justin speaks up, and Alex turns to look at him. The steel in his tone matches his expression, and he gazes back at Bryce unflinchingly. Alex assumes it’s an act, but he’s proud that the boy even manages to put on a brave face. If Alex was in his position, he’s sure he would be hiding. He isn’t sure, actually, what it would have done to him. It suddenly seems like a miracle that Justin is still functioning. Alex doesn’t know if he’d be able to. 

Alex tenses as Bryce steps away from the locker, shifting over so he’s slightly in front of Justin, a ready barrier. Bryce seems amused at this, giving Alex a once over before looking to Justin. “The fuck do I care? Just don’t come crying to me when your new keeper doesn’t want you anymore.”

Alex’s hands curl into fists and his lips have just parted when warning fingers dig into the inside of his elbow. Justin’s wrapped his hand around his arm, nothing more than a silent question. No; a plead. Alex steps back next to him wordlessly, and he wonders why they’re still not moving until he sees Jeff. With one look from him, Scott moves to his side without a word. Alex doesn’t think much of it, but the others seem surprised. 

“Seriously Scotty?” Monty asks incredulously. Scott only looks back at him impassively. Monty’s expression twitches with something, but then he looks at Bryce and crosses his arms firmly over his chest. 

Alex expects Bryce to attempt to order Scott back to his side, but perhaps he knows it would fail, because he only says, “Anyone else want to join these fags or are you done?”

Alex bristles, and if it wasn’t for the squeeze on his arm he would point out Bryce’s own apparently ambiguous sexuality. Alex can’t claim to understand what drove Bryce to do what he did to Justin, but he’s sure the information would give some of his blind followers pause. He wonders, briefly, if even Monty would look at him differently. Technically, he should now replace Justin in Bryce’s hierarchy. Alex wonders if, hearing that Bryce’s care comes with such a price, he would take a few steps back. He doubts it. Their relationship isn’t the same. Bryce isn’t possessive of Monty the same way he’s always been of Justin. It isn’t the same. Montgomery wouldn’t have anything to worry about. The thought makes Alex’s blood boil. 

He can’t out Bryce, though, without outing Justin. They could say, of course, that Bryce made a pass at him and Justin brushed him off. But Alex knows how easy it would be for Bryce to twist it, and how easily people would believe his version of the story. The risk of more hurt being tossed at Justin is one Alex can’t even consider taking. 

Justin gives his arm a tug, and he turns to follow them back down the hall, silently seething. Jeff keeps his arm tucked around Justin’s shoulders the whole way to the table, before letting go to let Justin take his seat between Alex and Zach. The table is silent as they sit down, all of their friends wearing cautious expressions. Alex knows his own is sour where Justin’s is drawn—as carefully blank as he can manage. Alex has nothing particularly useful to take his anger out on, so he settles for tearing his chicken into vicious chunks. 

Under the table, Justin’s leg settles against his, knees pressed together. A mirror action of Alex’s attempt at comfort the previous morning. It makes Alex close his eyes and take a breath, forcing himself to calm down. He doesn’t deserve comfort here. He should be the one comforting Justin. He has no idea what Bryce said to him before he got there. He can’t imagine that it was anything good. Justin is steady and blank-faced at his side, but Alex knows better. The lack of anything in Justin’s eyes worries him more than either tears or fury would. 

Alex doesn’t ask, though, can’t, here. He just presses back, hoping Justin still somehow finds comfort in the contact, in the proof of Alex’s presence. Alex certainly finds some in his. 

Clay is the only one brave—or stupid—enough to break the silence. “Okay, is there some jock fight thing going on the rest of us are unaware of, or….?”

“No,” Justin says, at the same time Scott answers, “Apparently.” He smiles apologetically when Justin gives him a dull look, shrinking down next to Jeff. Justin starts into his own food as angrily as Alex had and mutters, “Bryce is just an asshole.”

“And you’re only figuring that out now?” Clay asks dryly. 

“Shut up,” Alex orders flatly, even before Justin tenses next to him. For once, Clay seems to realise he shouldn’t argue. There’s a low mood between all four late arrivals, and Zach’s looking between them all with pursed lips, vaguely regretful. He knows something happened, and he knows he wasn’t there to help, and he’s trying to figure out an unnecessary apology. Alex isn’t going to tell him not to bother this time, though, because Justin deserves all the nice things he can get and Zach’s pretty nice when he wants to be. 

Eventually, he sweeps his eyes over Justin’s tray and says, “You didn’t get your muffin.” Justin looks up at him blankly for a moment and then shrugs. “You love chocolate.”

“You’re the one that keeps telling me I need to start going to the gym,” Justin mumbles. 

Zach’s face falls. “Yeah, because you need to put on some muscle not because you need to lose weight. You need energy for that and for energy you need sugar.” Justin glances up at him, and when Zach sees no argument in his expression he states, “I’m gonna go get you a muffin.”

“You don’t have to,” Justin protests weakly, but Zach’s already getting to his feet. He looks like he’s going to touch the younger’s shoulder, but like Bill, he thinks better of it. 

He settles a hand on Alex’s instead and asks, “Extra fries?” Alex nods with a grateful smile and Zach squeezes his shoulder before heading back to the counter. 

“Zach’s kinda sweet,” Jessica muses, looking after him with her chin propped on her fist. 

Hannah hums in agreement, and they share a look across the table. “How did we end up at a table with all the coolest guys in school?”

Justin charms, “‘Cause you’re the coolest girls in the school,” while Alex says bluntly, “I wouldn’t consider Clay and I cool.”

Hannah and Jessica smile brightly at Justin while Clay points his fork at Alex in agreement. In fairness, compared to Clay Alex probably _is_ considered cool, but Clay is nicer than him, so it balances out. Justin narrows his eyes at Clay accusingly. “If I’d said that you would’ve had a fit, but when Alex says it it’s fine?”

“Alex included himself. He wasn’t trying to insult me, he was just stating facts. If you’d said it Alex probably would have punched you.”

“He wouldn’t,” Justin dismisses instantly. “And I wouldn’t have included him. Alex is one of the coolest people I know. I would’ve just said, ‘I’d hardly say Jensen’s cool’.” 

“And that’s exactly why I don’t like you,” Clay says, exasperated. 

“I _would have_ said it, but I didn’t, because I’m trying to be nice,” Justin bites. 

“You’re doing swell,” Clay says sarcastically. 

“I gave you my muffin!”

Clay seems to falter a little at that. He slumps his shoulder with a sigh and admits, “I guess the muffin was okay.” Tony huffs a laugh and Alex shakes his head in amusement as Justin leans back, satisfied. 

“I love you, Alex, but I was definitely talking about our new jock friends. And Tony. Tony’s still cooler than all of us,” Hannah says, not a hint of apology in her tone. Tony shoots her a grin and she winks in response. Clay grumbles something and Tony pats his arm comfortingly. 

Jeff leans across the table to wiggle his brows at the girls, shameless. “Who’s your favourite?”

“Justin’s definitely the hottest,” Jess says without missing a beat, not even looking up from her food. She looks up, however, at the choked sound she receives in response. Alex looks over in amusement at Justin’s flushed cheeks, patting the boy’s back as he reaches for his glass of water. Jessica cups her face in her hand, looking at Justin in wonder. “Oh my god, are you blushing?”

“No,” Justin croaks, gulping down more water and glaring weakly at Alex when he laughs under his breath. 

“You are! He blushes? Alex, these are the kinds of things you’re supposed to tell us,” Jessica looks at him accusingly and Alex rolls his eyes, shrugging. 

“He blushes,” Alex says dryly. 

“Why did I even bother asking,” Jeff mutters. Scott pats his back. 

“That was just my answer,” Jess points out, gesturing at Hannah. 

Hannah smiles, shaking her head. You’re all really attractive, but Alex will always be my favourite. Sorry,” she shrugs. 

“Alex is all of our favourites. He’s the only reason this table exists,” Clay brushes off. 

Alex puts a hand to his chest. “Thanks, Clay.” Clay waves him off, but Alex feels rightfully touched. It’s almost enough to make him forget about Bryce. Almost. 

As if he’s thinking the same thing, Justin knocks his knee lightly against Alex’s. Alex looks over at him just as he says, “This might be the only time I’ll ever agree with Jensen.” Alex grins. “And after Alex, Zach’s the best out of all of us.”

Hannah rests her cheek on her fist, her long curls falling over her shoulder. “What makes you say that?”

Justin shrugs, his expression turning warm and earnest. “He does sweet shit like buy you chocolate. He’s always a good friend to me even when I’m being an asshole, and you should see him with May, his little sister. Shit would give you cavities.” He flicks a look at Alex, and Alex grins, hearing his own words in the comment. Jeff and Scott aren’t arguing with him, because they all know what’s going on. It makes Alex a little anxious, his silent part in it. Still, though, Zach’s a good guy and Hannah’s a great person. They’re both his close friends, and there’s no way he could actively interfere, but he wouldn’t be opposed to the two having a relationship. They’d be good to each other and it would be good for both of them. If it helps Zach and Justin’s friendship along the way, Alex definitely isn’t going to fight it. 

Hannah hums. “He seems really sweet. It must still be hard on him too, everything with his dad. It’s amazing it hasn’t changed him.”

That dims Alex’s mood a little, and Justin’s too if his simple and quiet, “Yeah,” in response is anything to go by. It doesn’t seem to have changed Zach, really, but there’s an underlying sadness in his eyes now. His step seems a little heavier than it used to be, like a weight has been left on his shoulders. Alex tried his best to be there for Zach when it happened, and knows how to be there for him now when Zach needs it. It is amazing, how well he deals with it, how he knows to let it in without allowing it to drag him down. He’s grown even closer to May than he had been, but instead of it feeling like a newfound obligation, it seems to be mutually comforting. The grievance is another reason Alex would like to see Zach find a little happiness. 

“Do you think a good old-fashioned Halloween party might help cheer him up?” Jessica asks hopefully. 

“Yes,” Jeff says instantly. “That would definitely cheer him up and I think it should be a group event. When and where?”

Jess bites her lip. “Friday. At Chloe’s. I’d understand if you guys didn’t want to come but it’s ‘mandatory’ for the cheer squad. I wouldn’t mind some good company. But either way Hannah and Clay can come babysit me.”

Alex raises a brow. “Why wouldn’t we want to come? These idiots actually like parties and you usually try a little to drag me along.”

“Well, Chloe being Bryce’s new girlfriend means he’ll probably be there,” Jess points out, as if it’s obvious. Maybe it is, and maybe Alex has just been left out of the loop. Justin’s sharp intake of breath leads him to believe otherwise. 

“She’s—what?” Justin asks, and that pretty much sums up Alex’s thoughts too. 

Jessica straightens. “Oh. You seriously didn’t know?”

Justin shakes his head slowly as Zach comes back to the table. He passes Alex his fries and sets a chocolate muffin in front of Justin. “Didn’t know what?”

“Bryce and Chloe,” Scott explains. Alex realises that he and Jeff were unsurprised, and that Zach’s shock is for a different reason. He turns to Justin searchingly, staring hard like it’ll help him figure out if Justin’s being serious. 

“You didn’t know they were together? Dude, how long have you guys been fighting?”

Justin looks at the table and ignores the question in favor of unwrapping his muffin. Alex stares at his fries, but he’s kind of lost his appetite. He stuffs two in his mouth anyway, even just to stop himself from speaking. “We’ll go,” Justin says. 

“We will?” Alex asks at the same time Zach says,” Go where?”

“Halloween party on Friday. Is it fancy dress?” Jess nods, hesitantly hopeful. “Great. I’ll sort Alex’s costume so you can focus on Jensen. Cover his face if you can.”

Clay flips him off and Alex is indignant enough to mutter, “Fuck you, Foley. I can pick my own costume.”

“A band t-shirt isn’t a costume,” Zach pipes up, so Alex flips him off in return. 

“Wait, so, you’re all going?” Hannah asks. “I don’t have to be babysitter?”

Justin grins at her, simultaneously charming and apologetic. “You’ll probably just have more people to babysit. But these idiots can be kind of amusing when they’re drunk. They’ll go.”

Jessica claps her hands. “Great! Alex can’t even bug me for dragging him this time,” she smirks at him, and Alex heaves a long-suffering sigh. 

“I hate all of you,” he informs them. Then he dumps a handful of fries on Justin’s tray. His quick decision to go pokes at Alex’s nerves, warning him that this is a horrible idea, but he isn’t going to say no. He has a feeling Justin’s set in going now, and if Alex tried to talk him out of it or refused to go, Justin would go himself. It would be an even worse idea. Alex can’t allow that. 

He’ll spend the week questioning Justin’s decision and complaining about being dragged along, but leaving Justin on his own is unthinkable. He has a bad feeling, but he’ll suck it up and swallow it down if it means Justin’s happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a sort of filler chapter and I think it’s the longest one so far. I don’t know what happened. Next chapter will include shopping and partying. It will (not) be a fun chapter.


	10. Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning for panic attacks.** Just in case, for anyone who would like to be prepared or skip over it. 
> 
> This is another long ass chapter with a bunch of fluff and a bunch of angst. I’m sorry. 
> 
> I promise the next chapter will have even more fluff and the ending will be kinder.

_Thought I’d found a way,_   
_Thought I’d found a way out_   
_But you never go away_   
_So I guess I gotta stay now_

~^~

“I am not wearing that.”

Justin pouts, but he only manages it for a split second before the stupid grin is back on his face. “What, you’ve never wanted to be a cowboy?”

They’re spending their Wednesday evening shopping because Alex promised Justin sweaters and Justin promised Jessica real costumes. It took some convincing for Justin to actually allow them to buy him clothes, but it was eventually Alex’s, “I’m not taking you shopping just so you can dress me in some dumb costume. I’ll wear whatever you want me to if you let me buy you something,” that had done it. 

He’s currently holding a bag of their four purchases as Justin flicks through the costumes. He’d went for the sale rail first and found two cheap hoodies, one to fit and one a size bigger. Then Alex had seen him eyeing a slightly more expensive black jumper with raised black print on the front and added it to the pile. Justin had tried to protest, saying he didn’t need it, but Alex had insisted, “It’s _nice_ ,” and Justin stopped arguing. Then Justin had hesitantly added a blue zip up hoodie on his own and Alex took it without batting an eye. Justin had been adamant about stopping there and dragged Alex to the Halloween store as soon as they were tucked safely into a bag. 

Alex can’t even be mad, because Justin’s eyes had lit up as soon as they came in. He’s been filing through costumes for the past ten minutes, and the first thing he offers is the most ridiculous cowboy outfit Alex has ever seen. 

“Yeah, an actual cowboy, not a half naked Woody,” Alex shakes his head, scandalized. “Put that back wherever you got it.”

Justin chuckles, but puts it back on the rack. A small smile stays on his face, and Alex can’t help but ask, “Why are you so into this?”

Justin looks up at him and then away, eyes training firmly on the costumes. He stops looking through them, though, and it’s the only indication that he’s no longer focused on it. Alex feels momentarily frustrated with himself for wiping the smile off his face, but then he explains. “I’ve never really enjoyed this kinda thing. Bryce usually picked my costume, or I had a couples one with some random girl. I would’ve ended up as naked as Woody if I didn’t,” he trails off for a moment, then looks at Alex again and seems to regain his footing. “If I didn’t use my scars as an excuse. And I told you about the decorations. I’ve never enjoyed any of it, but I had fun with you. I am enjoying it.”

“Oh,” is all Alex can think to say, but he knows he’s smiling, and that seems to be enough for Justin, who grins back at him. Then, hesitant again, habitually, he bites his lip. 

“That’s why I want to go to the party. I’ve been to what feels like hundreds and haven’t even enjoyed half of them. They were all just, drinking and hookups and Bryce, and maybe that’s what they’re supposed to be but it wasn’t what I wanted. But the few calmer ones I’ve had were fun, when I could hang out with Zach or Jeff or whoever. The ones when you come. I need to go to this one, with all of you. I need to prove that I don’t need Bryce and I don’t need to avoid him. For myself. I need to know I can do it.”

Justin’s voice gets quieter as he speaks, but it doesn’t lose any of its determination. Alex is overcome with a silent admiration. He keeps it down, under the surface, because he thinks if he told Justin the truth it would ruin it. He thinks if he told Justin, now, that he’s proud of him, Justin wouldn’t want it. He would shut down, or scowl, or curse. Maybe he’d punch Alex in the face. (Alex doesn’t really think he’d ever do that, but he supposes the possibility is always there. Alex can have a lack of filter. He wouldn’t hold it against Justin.) 

Still, he has to say something to show his acceptance. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea, because I actually hate every party. But I guess if you’re gonna be there I’ll at least have a pretty face to look it.” He grins when Justin sticks his tongue out at him, then watches as he goes right back to rifling through costumes. 

The next one he pulls out is some kind of weird, wizard get up and Alex looks at him incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“It’s hard to tell if they actually look good when they’re just flattened with a sticker on the hanger. Maybe you can just try it on,” Justin tries, complete with the puppy eyes look. 

Alex narrows his eyes. “Oh, okay, now I get it. You’re just doing it so you can make fun of me.”

Justin ducks his head, looking up at Alex through his lashes. He’s insufferable. Alex decides he hates him. “I just thought it would be fun,” he says, quietly, and Alex decides he’s pure evil. 

“You’re a menace, Foley,” Alex sighs, before snatching the clothing out of his hand and stalking to the changing rooms. 

Alex is shining and glittery and purple and he looks absolutely ridiculous, but he puts on the dumb hat anyway and pulls the changing room curtain open dramatically. He and Justin are the only ones in here.

He regrets it immediately when he sees the phone in Justin’s hands. 

He scowls as Justin instantly starts laughing. “I hate you,” he says, venomously, as the phone shakes in Justin’s hands but he keeps holding it up. “You planned this?”

“But you look so cool,” Justin protests, still laughing, and Alex just keeps scowling at him. Justin’s happiness begins to dim quickly, and he puts the phone down, crestfallen as he looks at Alex. “I’m sorry. I’ll delete it right now if you want. I didn’t think you’d care.”

Why, why is Alex so bad at this? He’s managed to tear the smile from Justin’s lips twice now, the smile that always makes Alex’s own lips tug up at the corners, that makes pride and contentment curl in his chest. He doesn’t care, not really, doesn’t mind at all, but he doesn’t know if Justin will believe that now. He tries, anyway. 

“I don’t,” he assures. “If it’s gonna remind us of something fun, I vote we try on everything in here and document them all. Besides, are we really having fun if we don’t have Snapchat proof?”

That earns the same genuinely happy laugh from Justin, and Alex feels the tightness in his chest settle. Still, Justin pauses to ask, “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent,” Alex promises. “You still have Bryce on Snapchat?” Justin nods hesitantly, and he looks a little ashamed to admit it, but Alex only says, “Good. Let me flip the camera off next time.”

Alex coaxes Justin into a costume next, a cheesy vampire one that has a cloak as embarrassing as the wizard outfit’s, but it still manages to look hot when Justin wears it. Alex videos his exit from the cubicle, as he shoves the curtain open in perfect dramatic fashion before waving the cape with flourish. “Oh, yes, work it,” Alex says as Justin flaps the cape about some more, just to earn that laugh out of him again and on video. 

Alex doesn’t have Bryce on Snapchat, but he does have Chloe. He’ll stick as much of Justin’s joy on there as he can just to show Bryce what he wasn’t able to ruin. 

If Alex is also going to cherish the memories, it’s a win-win. 

He does flip off the camera the next time, because the nurse outfit Justin had dug out for him is awful. The look Justin gives him makes it a little better, the secret smile, like this in an inside joke between them. “Nurse Standall, at your service,” Justin introduces, and it’s exactly what prompts Alex to flash his middle finger and Justin laughs again. 

Alex puts his hands on his hips and cocks a brow, playing the part as much as he can when he asks, “How can I help you, ma’am?” He lets his voice drawl, adds the slightest twang, and earns the loudest laugh from Justin so far. 

“Any way you want, Mr Standall,” Justin says, voice low and sultry, and the camera won’t catch the way he wiggles his brows but Alex does. It’s enough to break the act for a second as the start of a laugh slips out before Alex reels it back in. He likes this version of Justin, the one that’s a hint of his old self, the jokester, carefree and flirty and just a bit of an idiot. He likes this version of himself, that’s able to let go of his awkwardness and anxiety and have fun with Justin fucking Foley, of all people. 

He wanders around so he’s behind Justin, and Justin gets the hint and flips it to front camera. “My best patient,” Alex says, dropping his hands onto Justin’s shoulders. He gestures at the scar still on the other’s cheek. “See this? Some of my greatest work.”

Justin huffs amusedly, still grinning. “You have a magic touch,” he says, half serious and half sarcasm.

“It’s a gift. Just like your delivery was. I still remember it like it was just yesterday,” Alex sighs, still in that same drawl. “Truly, my greatest work.” 

He gestures at Justin fully this time, who elbows him in response, laughing again. “Fuck up Standall. I’m showing this to your parents by the way,” he calls as Alex heads back to the changing cubicle. “They’ll never shut up about it.” Alex flips him off again and is rewarded with more melodious laughter. 

The whole ordeal is what gives him the inspiration to pass Justin a police outfit. Justin gives him an unimpressed look, but Alex just holds it out until he gives in and takes it with him. The outfit is complete with handcuffs and baton, and the way Justin walks out in it is atrocious. The baton rests obnoxiously against his shoulder, and he swings the handcuffs around his finger. Expertly. Alex’s jaw drops a little before he gets ahold of himself. He’s reminded that this is still very much Hot Justin Foley, and for a moment he doesn’t really want anyone else to this. He knows, though, that the world needs to see this so it can continue to fawn over a boy that largely deserves to be fawned over. 

Alex himself whistles and zooms the camera in a little, panning it up and down over Justin’s frame. “Damn, Foley,” he compliments, and is rewarded with a blush that the camera doesn’t quite pick up. It allows the smirk Justin flashes it to be all that more believable. “Come on, give us the full view.”

He wonders, as he says it, if it’s too far. But Justin only makes a show of turning around until his back’s to the camera, placing his hands on his hips and looking over his shoulder. Alex whistles again. “I’m showing this to my dad. He’ll be recruiting you in no time.” Justin laughs and Alex grins. He adds a filter that’s just a bunch of falling pink hearts and the peach emoji before posting it with the others. It seems only appropriate. 

By the time Justin comes out, a bunch of people have already seen it and unnecessarily sent Alex responses. Alex isn’t even sure who half of them are. “‘He can use those handcuffs on me any day’,” Alex reads by way of greeting and Justin almost drops the costume, choking on his breath. 

“What?” he stutters, and Alex shakes his head, amused. 

“It’s at least the tenth message I’ve gotten in the past five minutes. From people I’m not even sure I know. You’re an attractive cop. How shocking.”

Justin blushes furiously even as he narrows his eyes. “You’re lying.”

Alex turns his phone around in response. Justin reads the messages for himself—Alex saved them all specifically for this purpose—and goes even redder. Still, a tiny smile forms on his face. 

Then he slips his own phone out of his pocket. Taps it a few times. Turns it around. 

Someone responded to his story, ‘I’d let him examine me,’ with a heart eye emoji. Another simply says, ‘can we see what’s under the scrubs??’ Then there’s another, and another, and Alex feels his own cheeks warm. It’s not as many as he’s gotten about Justin, but he’s shocked that anyone’s said anything at all, and Justin’s giving him this smug ‘I told you so’ look like he expected it from the beginning. 

“We should do this more often,” Alex says lightly, just to hear Justin laugh again. He’s heard it so much today that he should have gotten used to it, but it still sends a shock through him every time. He can tell that it’s real, and it’s so rare that to be getting it so freely now feels like a gift. Alex never wants to stop hearing it. It’s his favourite sound and he doesn't think anything will ever replace it. 

They try on a bunch of other costumes, some ridiculous and some ridiculously attractive, and they’re beginning to gain a constant stream of messages. It’s the most people that have ever watched Alex’s story, and he assumes it’s because those that stumble upon it tell the rest. He doesn’t blame them. He’s a little surprised, though, that the response on Justin’s phone is the same. 

Most of them are weird comments about the stuff they’d let either boy do to them, but some are just laughing emojis or ‘hahaha’s. A few have expressed concern about them showing the videos to Alex’s parents; a few have asked for a follow up video of their reactions. Alex makes a video assuring them that actually, his parents would probably find it pretty funny, but he just meant they’d show them a screenshot of the costume. Alex saved the video of Justin in the police outfit _before_ he added the filter and peach emoji, obviously. Then he saved it again once he added them, just because it’s funny and he wants to have the full reminder. 

After the nurse and cop outfits, Justin starts pulling out a couple more attractive, showy costumes. He even heads back for the weird cowboy outfit, but Alex tries it on without argument. If it means Justin keeps smiling like that, he’ll do anything. 

It’s weird because it has the trousers with the tassels, a hat, a waistcoat, and no shirt. It also has the little bandana thing that Alex ties around his neck. He suspects it’s made for people that are more buff than him, or just hotter in general—like Justin—but he gathers his courage and goes to show it off anyway. 

He’s glad he does, because Justin’s expression is worth it. His eyes widen and his lips part a little and his hands, video ready, drop down a little without meaning to. Alex grins, even though his arms are too skinny and his skin is too pale and he felt stupid five seconds ago. Justin whistles this time, lowly, when he snaps out of it. He remembers, suddenly, that Justin isn’t straight. The moment is enough to make him wonder if he’s attractive to people like Justin Foley, if he’s able to attract any of the attention the boy himself seems to just by existing. He allows himself to consider it for a moment, Justin Foley thinking about him in that way, entertains the thought while he remembers the look on his face before pushing it out of his mind. It would be nice, yes, but it’s not important. 

“Damn, Standall, you never told us you had abs,” Justin says, and Alex toys with the idea for another brief moment. 

“I don’t, I’m just skinny enough that it looks like it. Yay metabolism, fuck exercise.”

The laugh he receives in response is the only thing that’s important. 

They don’t actually decide to get any of the outfits, although Justin jokes about the nurse one and hints about the cowboy. Alex knows Justin is going to look ridiculously good in anything and it won’t matter what he gets. Then they find one particular costume, and he suddenly has more of an opinion. 

Alex isn’t even really sure what it is, some kind of apocalyptic or hunter-type thing. There’s fake blood and bandages in the packet, but Justin leaves them for the moment. The rest of the outfit is simply beige-coloured cargo pants and a black tank top. There’s a tool belt sort of accessory too, complete with fake knives. It’s not much, like that, but with the bandages and blood Alex can imagine the final look. Even now, with the scar on Justin’s cheek and the faint bruises still on his knuckles, there’s something about it that just really works. 

This time, Alex almost drops his phone. 

“Uhm,” Alex breathes. “Wow.”

Justin doesn’t look as confident as he did earlier, though. In fact, he shrinks a little. Alex isn’t sure what the problem is, but he wants to reach out and comfort anyway. It’s simple, the whole thing, but something about it is just undeniably _hot_. He thinks it’s maybe the way the material is tight to his torso, the way it shows off the muscles of his shoulders, his arms. There’s something fitting about it, too, as Alex looks at him. The finished product is meant to be battered and bloody, but undeniably strong. 

“It’s a little—bare,” Justin observes. 

Alex shrugs. “It’s not really any different to your basketball gear.” It’s more than his basketball gear, actually. 

“Yeah, but I’ve got another month before I have to wear that in front of anyone but the team.”

Understanding sinks in slowly. Justin still has practices, every Monday and Thursday. It’s the same days Alex has band, so it hasn’t been an issue. Basketball is Thursday, while Mondays are dedicated to football. Actual games don’t start until next month, and Alex hasn’t asked yet if training gets more frequent at that point. Now that Justin’s getting real meals into him, it’s part of what’s helping him get back into shape. Alex has heard all the boys complain about training, and after witnessing even Zach come out shaky with exhaustion, he’s not surprised Justin was worn down to nothing. Even then, Justin was no less interesting to look at. 

Alex understands the insecurity, though. He just hates that Justin feels it. He puts the phone down and walks closer to Justin instead. “I’m skinnier than you are, and you didn’t think I looked stupid in that cowboy costume. Is that all you’re worried about?”

Justin shrugs, ducking his head as he reaches up to prod at a spot on his left upper arm, just above his tattoo. Alex sees the small scar there and understands. “It doesn’t really bother me in my gear because none of the guys ever say anything and I love playing too much to care. It’s just…this is different.”

“No one would care, Justin,” Alex says softly. 

“People say stupid shit when they’re drunk.”

Alex purses his lips. “We could cover them with the bandages, or the blood. I could make it that no one would even notice.” Justin seems hesitant, but then Alex thinks of something. “I have a black bomber jacket. We could do the bandage thing and you can wear it over them, and if you get comfortable enough you can take it off and put it on again whenever you need to. But I think you should get it.”

Justin looks at him curiously. “Why?”

“Because you look really hot,” Alex says honestly. “And I want you to learn how to be comfortable. I want you to prove to yourself that you can be.”

Justin stares at him, lips parted and cheeks flushing lightly again even as he fixes his expression into something unimpressed. He knows that Alex is twisting around his own excuse and throwing it back at him, but Alex doesn’t care. It’s true, and he needs Justin to know that he means it. Very quietly, he agrees, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Alex questions, grinning when Justin nods. He reaches out and squeezes the younger boy’s shoulder. “Good.”

Justin goes to get changed, and when he starts to take longer than normal Alex steps hesitantly up to the curtain. “Justin?” There’s no answer. “You okay?” Alex tries again. 

The curtain opens suddenly and Alex takes a quick step back, surprised, as Justin rushes out past him. He’s in his own clothes again and Alex glances back to see the costume still lying inside, thrown haphazardly on the little bench. Then he calls out to Justin, and runs after him when he just continues rushing out the door. 

Alex follows him to the mall restrooms and finds him curled against the far wall, knees drawn to his chest and hands shaking in mid air. His heart clenches as he immediately understands what’s happening, though he can’t figure out what brought it on. He notes that all of the cubicles are empty and there’s no one standing around, and is glad there’s at least nothing here to make it worse. 

He walks over and crouches in front of Justin slowly, just as the boy’s hands fist in his hair. “Justin,” Alex starts, but the other doesn’t look at him. His eyes flit about wildly as his breath comes and goes in harsh, panicked pants. “Justin,” he goes on anyway. “It’s okay. It’s just me, just Alex. There’s no one else around. It’s just us, okay? You’re safe, but you just have to breathe. Are you listening, Justin? You’re having a panic attack. You have to breathe.”

Justin does not appear to be listening, but Alex has experienced this. He remembers his mother’s voice cutting through the haze, reminding him that he was okay, it would pass, he was in control. It can feel like you’re dying, Alex knows, can feel like it’s never going to end. He remembers the grounding hands on his knees, his shoulders, his cheeks, coaxing him back to the present. 

But his panic was only ever that—panic. It came from being overwhelmed, from thinking and stress and his own head. It had nothing to do with trauma. It wasn’t reminders of anything that had happened to him. 

It makes the lines blurry with Justin. 

Alex has no idea what’s going on in his head. He has no idea what brought it on. He doesn’t know if it’s Seth, or Bryce, or his mother, or a combination. It’s different, Alex thinks, if he’s stuck in some past moment, more difficult. Even if he hears Alex, he might not listen. Even if he hears him, he might not let himself believe it. 

Alex has to try anyway. 

He has to get Justin to breathe, but he notices his hands in his hair again, even tighter than before. “Justin,” he keeps his voice soft, almost hushed, but still forceful enough to encourage the boy to listen to him. “Justin, I need you to look at me. Can you do that? Justin, can you do that for me?” Wild eyes take a moment to settle on his and Alex nods, smiling gently. “Okay. I’m just going to touch your hands, okay? Will you let me do that? I’m not going to hurt you, or touch you anywhere else. I’m just going to touch your hands. Is that okay?”

He waits until he gets a short, jerky nod before reaching out. He unclenches Justin’s hands from his hair carefully, then holds them in his own, rubbing circles on his palms with his thumbs. Justin’s already uneven breathing hitches, but it seems to calm him down a little rather than distress him further. “Alex,” Justin chokes, voice shaky. 

Alex squeezes his hands gently. “Yeah. Just keep breathing, okay? Just breathe with me. It’s okay.”

Surprisingly, Justin actually listens to him, and Alex takes deep, even breathes for him to mimic. Alex keeps rubbing soothing circles into his palms, but he makes sure not to touch any other part of him, just in case. He has an inkling that he might be slightly at fault here. 

Eventually, Justin’s breathing is relatively normal and his eyes are clear, if tired. He curls his fingers around Alex’s. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and Alex notes his voice is still shaky. 

“Hey, you have nothing to apologise for,” Alex assures. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Justin exhales shakily. “I don’t know. I just—something happened, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was—it was like it was happening again, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get away. I had to try to get away.”

Alex swallows. “Bryce?” Justin’s breath hitches again and he nods. Alex wants to kill him. The desire only strengthens when Justin lets out a strangled sound and goes to curl his hand into a fist. It’s still tangled with Alex’s, though, so Alex squeezes it tightly instead. “You’re not there. You’re not with him. He can’t hurt you.”

“But he is,” Justin says frustratedly, watery. “It fucking hurts and it’s so fucking stupid and I hate this.” A tear leaks out, finally, and Alex hates this too. He hates that he’s been trying and it still hasn’t made it better, he hates that he doesn’t know what to do because nothing’s working. 

“Hey.” Alex reaches out to brush the tear away and Justin flinches so violently he almost hits his head against the wall. It’s enough to make Alex pull both hands back into his lap and lean back. Realisation settles in. “It’s because I touched you.”

He hadn’t thought anything of it. He’s gotten so used to Justin allowing his touches without protest that he doesn’t think to ask anymore. To give Justin time to say no. Maybe Justin hadn’t even realised at the time that a hand on his shoulder was unwelcome, but Alex hadn’t noticed, either. Even after, there had been no indication that anything was wrong. This is Alex’s fault. 

Still, Justin is quick to deny it. “No. Or—maybe. I don’t know. But I’m not scared of you, Alex, I know you won’t hurt me. I _know_.” As if to prove it, he lifts Alex’s hand to his cheek and presses it flat to his skin. “I’m okay when you touch me. It’s not you. It’s not ever you.”

Alex sighs, but he strokes his thumb hesitantly over Justin’s cheek. “Sometimes you can’t help it,” he says softly. “It’s not your fault, either. I should have asked.”

“I wouldn’t have even known to tell you no,” Justin shakes his head. He leans it back against the wall as he closes his eyes, letting out a sigh of his own. “Fuck this.”

Alex just strokes his cheek again, then turns it into a continuous motion when Justin leans into his palm. Justin flicks his eyes open again and Alex gives him a sympathetic smile. Justin shifts the hand still lightly covering Alex’s to his wrist, fingers wrapping around it loosely. Alex keeps his own touch on the boy’s face light, ready to stop and pull away at a moment’s notice. But Justin leans into him, keeps him there, and as much as Alex wants to hug him, this is enough for now. 

“Maybe this party isn’t such a good idea,” Justin mumbles, and he sounds so defeated that Alex instantly feels the urge to argue. 

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. But there’s nothing stopping you,” he reminds him. Justin scoffs, but Alex continues before he can think about protesting. “I’ll be there with you. The guys will be there. Hannah and Jess, Clay and Tony. It could actually be fun. And if it’s not, we don’t have to stay. We can go home at any time. If you want to go. If you really don’t, then we won’t.”

Justin bites his lip, gazing at him consideringly. His eyes drift shut for a moment again as he says, “Promise you’ll stay with me?”

Alex brushes the ends of his hair with his fingers. “Promise.”

“Okay. We’ll go.”

Alex drops his hand to the back of his neck and gives a hesitant, light squeeze. Justin’s slight smile, barely an uptick of his lips, is enough to reassure him. He picks his head up when Alex asks, “Do you still want the costume?” Justin thinks about it for a moment, but eventually he nods. The costume wasn’t part of the problem. Or, if it was, Justin isn’t holding a grudge. “Are you okay to go back and get it now? You don’t have to come inside. I’ll just run in for it, really quick, and then we can go home.”

Justin had stiffened, but he relaxes again, nodding. “We didn’t get one for you.” Alex shrugs in dismissal, but Justin protests, “I told Jessica I’d take care of it.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Alex promises. “But it’s getting late. The shop will be closing soon anyway. Just your costume, and then we’ll leave.”

Justin doesn’t hesitate to agree this time, but he does let out another sigh. Alex stands first, wincing at the ache in his knees, before holding his hands out to pull Justin to his feet. He stumbles a little when he gets there, still shaky. Alex keeps his hands out towards him until he gives the okay, and then sticks close anyway. When Justin reaches behind him and tangles a hand in the back of his cardigan, leaning into his side, Alex tucks an arm around his shoulders. He thinks, at this point, Justin is just too tired to be affected by it. He simply needs the support. Alex gives it willingly, heart clenching the whole way. 

It pains him to leave Justin, but a quick glance inside shows that there’s still no other customers. Justin leans himself against the wall, and after making sure that he’s okay Alex dashes inside to buy the costume. It’s still lying in the changing room, so he tugs it back onto the hanger awkwardly and takes it to the counter. A plump little middle-aged woman stands behind it, and her face brightens as she sees Alex. She lifts a bag onto the counter and asks, “Is this yours, honey? I picked it up when the two of you ran out.”

It’s Justin’s jumpers. Alex curses himself silently for leaving without it. It had completely slipped his mind while they were trying on the costumes, and he hadn’t even noticed it when he ran after Justin. “Yes, thank you,” Alex sighs, relieved, taking it back as she puts Justin’s costume through. 

She waves him off. “Is your friend alright? Poor thing looked like a ghost when he left.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah,” Alex blinks. “He just—he was feeling sick. Just hit him suddenly, I guess.” The genuine concern in her tone makes him feel a little bad about the white lie, but it’s not too far from the truth and it’s all he has to offer. 

She seems to accept it, tutting softly. “Hopefully it’s nothing more than a short bug. I gave you a little discount on the costume hun, it’ll just be twelve dollars.”

Alex starts. The original price was twenty. “Oh—thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He’s waved off again. “I know it’s for him. He deserves something nice today, and if this is all I can do it’s nothin’ much. It’s nice to see a couple of young men having fun without needing to destroy the place,” she gives him a dry smile, and Alex’s own lips quirk in response. “Brightened my day a little. Now here, go on back to him before you bounce out of your shoes.”

Alex hadn’t even been aware of his twitching, but he stops abruptly when he notices it, taking the bagged costume with a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he pauses to say anyway, sincere. “He’ll really appreciate it. I do too.”

She gives him a genuine smile and a little wave as he jogs back out to Justin. Alex is glad to find him still in one piece, leaning against the wall tiredly where he left him. He straightens when he sees Alex, reaching for the bag with a small smile. Alex doesn’t let him take it, though, drawing it to his chest. “I’ll carry it. You got us a discount.”

Justin brow furrows. “What?”

“She saw us run out, wanted to cheer you up a little. Apparently she found us entertaining. She saved your bag for us, too, so that was sweet.”

“Fuck, I completely forgot about it. I—Do you think I should go say thank you?” 

Alex blinks. “I mean, if you want to. You don’t have to, though. I told her you’ll appreciate it.”

Justin bites at his lip again, then says, “I’m just gonna go say thanks.”

Alex watches amusedly as he runs back into the store, wandering in after him. He waits just inside the doorway, where he has a clear view of the till. The woman looks surprised to see Justin again, and Alex sees her soften immediately at the charming smile he offers. “Hi, I just wanted to come thank you. That was really sweet of you. My friend’s paying, and I hated that I was putting him out so much so, thank you.”

Alex rolls his eyes slightly at that, but grins when he notices that the woman’s blushing under Justin’s charm. Like Alex, though, she waves him off. “No worries, sweetheart, it was my pleasure. Few people would look as good in that costume anyway. Now go on, don’t stick around for me, your boy’s waiting for you.”

She waves at Alex, and he waves back as Justin flashes his smile again, thanking her once more before coming back to Alex. Her words only sink in, and Alex wonders if she meant them the way he heard them, if she thinks he’s Justin’s in that way. Alex supposes he is Justin’s, in some ways, so he doesn’t bother correcting her and Justin gives no reaction. 

He’s steadier now and he walks out to the car on his own, though barely a foot from Alex’s side. On the way home, he’s disappointingly silent. Alex can see his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap, fingers twisting together and then curling into separate fists. His jaw’s tight, his gaze focused resolutely out the window, away from Alex. Frustration, Alex thinks, then looks again. He thinks there’s slight embarrassment there, too, and matching frustration wells up in him. He swallows it down—Justin would see it as frustration with him, as anger, and Alex doesn’t want that. He’s hurt Justin enough as it is, however unintentional it was. He can’t help but think the self-consciousness isn’t the only reason Justin isn’t looking at him. 

An urge builds up in him, to offer comfort, reassurance. The words ‘ _I used to have panic attacks_ ’ climb up his throat and choke him. They slip to the tip of his tongue, and he can’t quite manage to get them past his lips. He wants to explain, offer his own story, so that Justin knows he’s in no position to judge. But what are the chances it’ll help, anyway? This isn’t about him. It’s about Justin. He can’t dismiss Justin’s experience, Justin’s feelings, with his own. It’s not fair. 

Right?

He bites his tongue instead, focuses on the small jolt of pain, and drives them home in silence. 

By the time they get there, Justin’s acting like nothing happened. 

Alex decides not to push it. Justin’s hands seem steady, his smile seems real as he talks to Alex’s parents. It brightens when they ask how shopping went, when he tells them about the reduction on his costume and the nice lady in the shop. He doesn’t tell them why. Alex didn’t expect him to. He carefully avoids any mention of anything being wrong, and Alex’s parents don’t bat an eye. Alex silently screams, and then Justin turns his smile on him, quick and grateful and reassuring. _Real_. Alex smiles back, not entirely buying it, but something in him settling anyway. 

That night, Justin slides into bed with two feet between them. Alex doesn’t blame him. 

He does, however, reach a searching hand into the space between them. Alex takes it slowly, carefully, until Justin’s fingers grasp tightly onto his. He squeezes once; Alex squeezes back. That’s enough. 

~^~

Justin doesn’t sleep in Alex’s hold on Thursday, either, and Alex can’t help but feel like they’ve taken steps backwards. It doesn’t help that Justin has gone quiet again. He hasn’t brought up what happened on Wednesday, tenses anytime he thinks Alex is going to mention it. He avoids Alex’s touch during the day, and everyone else’s, though that doesn’t bother Alex as much. 

He’d thought they were fine. He thought he’d done enough to stop Justin from blocking him out again; he’d thought by allowing him to touch, by reassuring, Justin was making a promise. He feels stupid for thinking it and awful for being upset. No, it’s more than upset, he thinks. It’s sadness, frustration, anger, fear, hurt, regret. Guilt. He doesn’t know what half of his feelings are for or where they came from and it causes a nauseating anxiety he can’t get rid of. If Justin wasn’t entirely taking up his mind before, he is now. 

He leaves half of his lunch on both days, only finishes his dinner because his mom would notice. He forgets his chords at practice and is allowed to leave early (has to, because he’s just not there and he’s only fucking up everyone else). Justin’s hand slips into his that night and Alex clings onto it like a lifeline. It’s all he has to hold on to, and it soothes the ache of Justin’s silence the next morning. He’s quiet at school, through lunch, and he thinks some of them notice, but they don’t ask and he doesn’t tell them. Justin acts like everything’s fine—smiling and laughing and reacting appropriately. He avoids Alex’s gaze and brushes off his questioning and Alex tries to act like his chest isn’t collapsing. 

He remembers this feeling. It used to be so familiar. He hates it as much now as he did then—more, maybe. Zach’s warning filters back to him, pushes and prods at him when he meets concerned eyes. Maybe Zach could help. It would help Alex, at least, he thinks. He feels horribly selfish just thinking about it, so he flashes a smile in Zach’s direction and ignores him when it won’t sit on his face. It’s normal, isn’t it? That he’s adopted snaps of Justin’s behavior? It’s only natural, after spending so much time with him. 

It’s only natural, after spending so much time with him, to expect him _to talk to Alex._ It also means Alex has grown to expect it. He's gotten used to Justin brushing him off; to the shut-down. It doesn’t make it any easier. 

But he refuses to push—refuses to cross a line. He’s part of the problem. He’s hurt Justin already, however unintentional. He’d gotten too comfortable and thought Justin was comfortable with him. He was stupid. He deserves the silence, the growing ache in his chest. He promised himself that if what Justin needed was space, he would give it to him. He refuses to break a promise made to himself. 

Justin is a big boy. He can take care of himself. 

Or at least, that’s what Alex is telling himself to avoid completely losing his mind. 

Then it’s suddenly time for the party. 

He would wonder if they’re still going, but Jessica had asked today again and Justin had promised they are. He wonders instead if Justin would rather he didn’t go, if he wants to go without him, wants the space to breathe and be on his own. Alex wouldn’t blame him. It would hurt, and he would worry, but he wouldn’t stop him and he wouldn’t blame him. 

Then Justin wanders down the stairs with his costume in his hand and his bottom lip captive between his teeth, facing Alex with that puppy look of his. “Can you help me with this? With the bandages and blood and shit like you were talking about?”

Everything in Alex soothes instantly and he smiles. He stands from the couch and ushers Justin back towards the stairs. “Come on, if we get blood stains in here Mom will kill me.”

Justin gets changed in the bathroom while Alex digs out his promised bomber jacket. When Justin comes looking for him, Alex feels that clench in his chest again at the sight of him. He breathes it away and directs Justin back to the bathroom. “One sec,” he promises, and detours to his parents’ room. He riffles through the makeup sitting on top of the shelves and then makes his way to Justin. 

Justin raises a brow at him when he comes in, taking in the objects in his hands. “Should I be more worried about the lipstick or the eyeliner?”

“Neither,” Alex brushes him off. “Sit down and trust me. But tell me if you want a breather or don’t want me to do something.”

He closes the toilet seat as Justin nods then sits down, leaning back and gazing up at Alex, completely trusting. More of the ache in Alex’s chest eases and he sits on the side of the bath, picking up the bandages and the tube of blood. He examines the bandages first. He gives it an experimental tug—it tears easy. He grins and holds the first piece up, questioning. “You want a piece on your arm?”

Justin’s eyes flit over him a moment, then he nods. But when Alex reaches for the scar he’d previously pointed out he turns his body towards him, holding his other arm out. “This one’s worse,” he explains easily, and Alex realises he’s right. The scar here is longer and jagged, widening slightly at a point in the middle. Alex wraps the strip of material around it without a word. He ties it rather than sticking it, making sure it’s not too tight and explaining it fits the image better at Justin’s questioning. The amused and slightly exasperated tilt of the other boy’s lips is enough to make him think it was the right decision. 

Adding the blood is the more difficult part, but for this one he applies it directly. He drips it onto the bandage and lets some trail down the boy’s arm, even as Justin grimaces. “It’ll dry in,” Alex brushes him off before he can even complain, and Justin slouches again with a huff. 

The next piece of bandage he cuts with scissors he digs out of the cabinet. He makes it a relatively disastrous square before hovering it over Justin searchingly. Justin only nods without asking, and Alex settles it over the juncture between his neck and shoulder then sticks it down. He puts it on the left side, opposite the tourniquet on his right arm. This time he dribbles the blood onto the makeup sponge he stole from his mom (she won’t even notice, it’s from a whole bag of them). Justin watches him curiously until he dabs it over the bandage, darker in the middle and then smudged as it carries down onto his shoulder. Justin makes an appreciative noise. “Who knew you were so creative?”

“Don’t get too excited yet,” Alex warns. Justin only grins at him. Alex feels warmth bloom in his chest. He’s missed that look, and it feels nice to have it directed at him again. “Still trust me?” Alex waits for Justin to nod before setting the lipstick to the right side of his forehead and dragging a line across to his temple. Justin seems surprised, but he doesn’t protest. If it doesn’t work out, they can just wash it off. 

He shades the mark in then with the eyeliner, blending it in with more lipstick when he accidently adds too much. Then he puts more blood on the sponge and carefully dabs it over the makeshift wound. It only takes a couple of minutes altogether, and he leans back to admire his handiwork. He hums and Justin looks at him curiously. “It looks better when people on Instagram do it, but I don’t think it’s bad for my first ever attempt.”

Justin raises a brow. “So you’re saying I’m your test dummy.” Alex shrugs and gestures at the mirror. Without pause, Justin gets up to examine himself. His shoulders relax immediately and he meets Alex’s eyes in the mirror, gesturing to his head. “You’ve seriously never done this before?” Alex shakes his head. “Fuck,” Justin comments appreciatively. Alex hopes. 

“I watch a lot of videos,” Alex brushes him off lightly. Justin nods, eyeing himself for another moment before turning on Alex. 

“We never got you a costume.”

Alex’s lips part. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. You can’t go to a costume party without a costume.” Alex’s heart sinks, and he braces himself. This is what he was waiting for—for Justin to tell him he’s no longer wanted. He doesn’t have to come; it would be better if he didn’t. But then Justin says, “I’ve been thinking about it. Come on.”

Alex follows him back into his own room and watches as Justin begins digging through his closet. First he tosses out a pair of Alex’s black skinny jeans and then he tugs a dark grey shirt off its hanger. He throws it on top of the jeans and Alex raises his brows curiously. “I’m dressing as a...fancier version of myself?”

Justin only rolls his eyes and walks past him out the door. Alex stares after him, wondering if he’s supposed to follow as he hears his footsteps descending the stairs. He debates for a couple of minutes, but before he can make up his mind he hears Justin coming back. He comes in and holds up a silvery object. Alex realises it’s the mask Justin had discovered at the weekend, and like then he tugs it on over Alex’s eyes with a grin. “There. Match this with those clothes and you can be a modern day prince. Hurry up so we can eat before they get here.”

Alex has no time to reply or tamp down the heat creeping into his cheeks before Justin’s gone again, this time shutting the door behind him. This is the lightest he’s felt since Wednesday, and he obeys Justin’s order by changing quickly. The mask is going to annoy him—it already is—but he glances in the mirror and accepts it. It sits stark and shiny over his eyes, multiple shades darker than his hair. Alex has always thought it would be heavy, but it feels light on his face. He nods at his reflection before heading down to Justin. 

Justin’s reaction makes him feel better, lips parting as his eyes trail down Alex’s form and back up. His eyes snap up to Alex’s face and he clears his throat, nodding. “That’ll work.”

Alex grins. 

Hannah’s taking them, opting to be the designated driver after a bad experience with a hangover last time. Alex appreciates it, because it means he can drink a little and possibly find the whole thing more tolerable. Zach’s house is only a couple of streets away, and they could walk home if completely necessary. He thinks Hannah offered to take them anyway so they can be an excuse for the girls to leave earlier. Alex is planning on using the girls as an excuse if Justin wants to leave earlier. 

Alex makes them dinner before the girls get there, and doesn’t feel unnerved as they eat in silence. It’s comfortable instead, peaceful, and Alex lets himself enjoy just being with Justin. Justin seems calm, too. Relaxed. Alex is glad, but he can’t completely get rid of the antsy feeling lingering in his own stomach. It results in the occasional pang of pain, but Alex clenches his jaw and ignores it. It’s not going to get in the way. 

When the girls get there Alex wanders out to let them in. He opens it to find a nurse and a pirate, both equally adorable. The fist squeezing his stomach loosens as a smile spreads across his face, and he gives the customary wolf-whistle. “If it wasn’t super weird I’d want to hook up with both of you. My friends are hot,” he muses. 

They grin back at him, and Hannah raises a brow, saying, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Alex hears movement behind him as Jessica’s eyes trail over him much like Justin’s had. Jessica doesn’t take her eyes off of Alex to see what it is, but it’s obvious enough that she says, “Damn, Justin, you did a good job.”

“I know,” Justin says easily, and Alex can hear the smile in his voice, just inches behind him. 

Jessica looks up at him then and her jaw drops. “Damn, Justin.”

Justin’s smirk should make the way he crosses his arms over his chest arrogant, but Alex sees the self consciousness hidden in the gesture. This time Alex says, “I know,” with a smug little smile of his own. It earns him a soft laugh and appreciative grins. Justin gives his shoulder a short, grateful squeeze as Jessica asks if they’re ready before jogging back to the sitting room to retrieve Alex’s jacket. 

He comes back out as he’s slipping his arms into the sleeves and Alex’s breath is knocked out of him. He’s rendered breathless in some way every time he sees Justin, he realises. Whether it’s pain and worry squeezing his chest or it’s something like this, when Justin’s appearance simply astounds him. Alex’s jacket fits him much the same way as it fits Alex, but it is a little more snug. It matches the costume perfectly, too, Alex is a little proud to note. 

“Damn,” Jessica says, again, and Alex can’t help but agree. 

“Yes, we’re all super hot,” Hannah says. “Now are we going?” The others share amused grins before following her out. 

~^~

Chloe’s house is packed. 

Alex feels instantly uncomfortable, his stomach cramping painfully. Justin shifts closer to him as they make their way inside, avoiding the crowd or seeking comfort or both. Alex allows himself to touch his back briefly and some of his anxiety settles when Justin brushes his arm in response. Hannah and Jessica are still with them, but they immediately break off to find the others. The music is loud and wordless and it’s teasing Alex with an instant headache. Justin has to lean right over to speak in his ear so he doesn’t have to shout. “Do you know if the guys are here yet?”

Alex shrugs, grimacing. He leans in to say, “I think Zach said they would be late.” Justin bites his lip, glancing over the vaguely familiar faces around them. Alex tries to think of something that will help, and eventually just asks, “Drinks?” Justin nods and leads him through the stumbling masses to the kitchen. 

They barely make it through the door before bumping into Chloe, who grins brightly as soon as she sees them. She’s dressed, creatively, as a cheerleader. Alex huffs and ignores Justin’s reprimanding nudge. He has nothing against Chloe, has always liked her enough, but the knowledge that she’s now dating Bryce Walker sours his opinion slightly. 

“You two are hot! You kept those costumes private.” She has to shout over the music, but it doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. She looks to Justin and asks, “Where’s Bryce?”

Alex gapes at her. Justin stares at her for a beat, then two. Opens his mouth. Closes it again. Finally, he simply says, “I don’t know.”

“Oh,” Chloe frowns. Then her eyes widen. “Oh, I’m sorry, I completely forgot. It’s just he still talks about you the same, you know? He misses you a lot. I really hope you can sort it out with him.”

Justin tenses up and Alex seethes silently. Justin hasn’t even had a chance to enjoy it before this bullshit is being shoved in his face. Alex wants to steer him to the table for their drinks and out of the room, ignoring Chloe. He wants to steer him out of the house and take him home—wrap him in a blanket and get him hot chocolate before tucking him into bed. He makes it sound like Justin’s a child, but the boy _is_ such a goddamn puppy that Alex can’t help but want to take care of him. God knows Justin needs it. 

“What did he tell you?” Justin asks, taking a step closer to her to avoid raising his voice. 

She shakes her head, smiling sympathetically. “Nothing. Just that you guys argued. You should talk to him. It’s obviously bothering you too.”

Justin huffs in dry amusement, then shakes his head. “You can talk to him for me. Tell him I said fuck off,” Justin says plainly, stepping around her and further into the kitchen. Alex follows him without a word, leaving Chloe looking stunned. 

Justin’s shoulders are still tense, so Alex presses his hand down on his left one until they relax. Then he pours them two cups of beer and watches Justin down his with a raised brow. Justin simply sets the cup back down on the table and gestures for Alex to refill it. Alex settles for just lifting the bottle of beer and steering Justin out of the kitchen. They find the sitting room, where the couch and armchairs have been pushed to the edges and Zach and the others have taken up residence. 

Zach notices them first, grinning wide and breaking away from the people dancing in the center of the room. He’s as creative as Chloe, decked out completely in his basketball gear. Alex rolls his eyes. “Jeff and Scott were more creative, right?” Alex asks by way of greeting. 

Zach had been going for a fist bump, but he lets his hand drop as he frowns. “My outfit is perfectly Halloween worthy, so fuck you.”

Alex snorts. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Are you calling me ugly?”

“I was talking about the fucking me part,” Alex wiggles his brows and Zach shoves him, but Justin’s laughing. Alex turns to stare at him instead, wide smile spreading over his face at the sight of Justin’s crinkled eyes. Justin catches his gaze, only grinning wider when he realises Alex is watching him. All thoughts of Bryce seemingly forgotten. Momentarily, at least. Alex will take it. 

“Well, what the hell are you supposed to be?” Zach retorts, raising his brows. “You but fancy?”

“He’s Prince Charming,” Justin says defensively, before Alex can agree with him. “It was last minute. At least he looks hot in the ‘come hither’ way, and not ‘I need a shower’.”

Zach raises a hand to his chest in offense. “Oh, is this how it is now? You two teaming up on me? I can’t even figure out who’s influencing who.”

“Who said anyone’s influencing anyone? You’re just easy game, Zach,” Alex laughs. 

Before Zach can defend himself, Jeff and Scott have joined them. Jeff has actually taken on the vampire look, and Scott’s taken the easy way out as a zombie, his costume totaling a few strips of bandage draped over him. His face, though, is surprisingly well done, dark and deadened and sufficiently scary looking. 

“Fuck, dude, I’m so glad we don’t match,” is the first thing Jeff says, relief clear as he looks at Justin. Scott pats his shoulder. “When you wouldn’t tell us which one it was I panicked because I already had this but you’re a hot vampire, how the hell do you do that? And I didn’t wanna compete with that but—“

“You could’ve just told me you had a vampire costume and I would’ve told you it wasn’t that one,” Justin cuts him off, raising a brow.

“I asked Alex,” Jeff defends. 

Justin turns to him with a raised brow and Alex shrugs. “It was more fun watching him panic.” Justin just shakes his head at him, disappointed. The amused tilt to his lips gives him away, though. “If it makes you feel better, you make a very hot vampire,” Alex reassures Jeff. 

Jeff’s smile is blinding, but Zach makes a noise of disgust. “Wait, wait, wait. You gang up on me but compliment Jeff?”

“It’s Jeff,” Justin says, like that explains everything. Alex gets it. “You know you’re hot, Dempsey, and we know you’re hot, and everyone here knows you’re hot, so how about you stop whining and go find Hannah and show her how hot you are, yeah?”

Zach perks up instantly, expression hopeful. “Yeah?” he questions. Justin nods enthusiastically, adding a few more encouragements before Zach gives in and disappears into the crowd. 

“Your face is cool,” Alex tells Scott, gesturing at his own face. 

Scott only gives a small smile and shrugs, gazing at the beer-drinking bloodsucker next to him. “Jeff did it.”

Jeff looks up from his drink, another bright smile on his face. “It also looks fucking hot and I will admit I’m proud of myself. And yet again, no one’s gonna care when they see Justin. How are you better at everything?”

Justin’s lips part. “I’m not better at anything. Alex did mine.”

It only seems to stress Jeff out further. “The hellish power couple. I hate you both. Come on, Scott, I can’t look at them any more.” 

Alex and Justin stare after them as they disappear, and when Justin turns to him with raised brows Alex can only shrug. Justin dismisses it with a shrug of his own and asks, “Do you wanna just take over the couch?”

“Yes,” Alex says instantly, absolutely happy to hide away for the duration of this thing. They settle down next to each other, and the couch is small enough that they can sit on opposite ends with very little space left between them. It means they do, completely, take over the couch, and Alex is glad. It further lessens the chance of anyone joining them. 

After a couple of moments of silence, Alex isn’t as happy about that. 

He feels awkward and uncomfortable. It’s such an unnatural feeling around Justin now, and it makes it all the more noticeable. It makes his chest tight and his stomach cramp and he silently prays for either the guys to come back or for the girls to find them. 

Then Justin says, “I’m sorry.”

Alex blinks and turns his head to stare at him. “What?” 

“I know I shut you back out. I wasn’t trying to. I didn’t want to. I _don’t_ want to. And I know that you’re pissed but I don’t know how to...not do it. How to...to be okay with everything and talk about fucking feelings and shit. I don’t want to. But I don’t want you to be upset,” Justin explains slowly, sentences slipping out in fragments as he carefully thinks them through. 

Alex’s lips part on a soft, surprised breath. “I’m not pissed, Justin. I mean, I am, maybe, but not at you. More like at myself and at Bryce and Seth and the world in general. I think I miss you a little, maybe? I feel like we went backwards and I hate myself for not being enough to make things better for you.”

“You are,” Justin argues, instantly, and then he seems surprised at himself. He quickly shakes it off though, turning more of his body towards Alex. “Things are better. They’re like, the best things have ever been for me. I just...it’s weird. I’m trying, okay? To not push you away. It’s taking me a little while but it’s not your fault. I don’t want you to be upset, okay? Please.”

Alex wants to say warmth blooms in his chest, but it’s not like that. It’s a mini explosion, a burst of relief in his chest. It’s contained inside him, not factoring into his external reaction, his expression. Outwardly, he sags, shoulders finally relaxing. He thought he understood, but now he _knows_. Now he has proof, trustworthy information and he can relax. Justin isn’t mad at him. Doesn’t hate him. He’s simply processing, and at the moment he’s still only able to do that on his own. Alex had promised space if it was needed. It’s why he hasn’t pushed. He just needed the reassurance that that’s all it was—space, not absence. Justin is still with him, just not fully. The rest of him just needs time to come back. 

“Okay,” is his only response, and the tension finally seeps out of Justin as well. He offers Alex a small smile, which Alex manages to return without a single ache in his stomach. 

It returns full force, though for a different reason, when someone lands on top of him. He makes a gasping sort of noise as Hannah slings an arm over his shoulders, hair tickling his face. “Jesus,” Alex complains, but loses his conviction immediately when she plants an apologetic kiss on his cheek. 

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot how breakable you are.”

“Fuck you too,” Alex laughs, and Hannah grins at him. 

“Sit,” Justin says, and Alex looks up to see Jessica still standing in front of the couch. Hannah did take his lap in response to the lack of space, after all. Justin gestures to his own lap, and Jessica’s brows shoot up. Justin raises his own in response, more hesitant as he says, “Or not. Here, you can sit, I’ll take the arm or—“

Jessica cuts him off with a small laugh. “Cute,” she comments. “As if you really think anyone would pass up that offer.”

Justin’s smile is blinding.

Jessica settles on his lap with more casualness and ease than Alex expected. Then she gives him a look, and the excitement in her eyes is so obvious Alex almost laughs. 

But Justin’s looking at her with a weird, stricken kind of expression. Alex doesn’t know what it means, can’t figure it out, and his stomach cramps again for a moment before Hannah sighs. “That damn smile,” she mutters, and Alex understands what she means. 

“I still can’t believe you both went with costumes no one knew about,” Jessica shakes her head. “I was ready for us to be matching, Alex.”

Alex smiles, shaking his head. “You didn’t really expect me to come in scrubs.”

“But you made them look hot! You both made everything look hot. It was seriously frustrating.”

Justin smirks, that trademark Justin Foley smirk, and Alex simultaneously remembers why he hates him and why he so badly wanted to know him. “Seriously or sexually?”

Jessica flushes, but she laughs, too, shoving Justin’s shoulder with an easy, “Shut up.”

“No, it’s okay, I get it. I have to deal with Alex’s hotness on a daily basis,” Justin turns his smirk on him. And then he winks. 

He _winks_. 

The girls laugh, Hannah even going ‘aw’ and pinching Alex’s cheek when she notices the flush there. Alex bats her hand away as Justin joins in on their giggles. Alex gives him an unimpressed look, and then that damn fucking smile is directed at him and the curl in his stomach is much more pleasant. 

“Seriously, though,” Hannah drags the conversation back. “We need new Snapchats of this to save and forever obsess over.”

Alex’s brows raise slowly. “You saved the last ones?”

Hannah mirrors his expression, with the addition of an eye roll. “I’m pretty sure everyone did. Did you really expect any different?”

Alex didn’t really expect anything, and from the blank look on Justin’s face neither did he. They did it for a laugh, mainly, and to have a record of the memory themselves. Alex saved all his, and so did Justin, and then they sent them to each other, so they each have the whole collection. He didn’t think that anyone else would. It makes him a little uncomfortable and a little smug. Justin still just looks lost. 

They both look to Jessica when she adds, “I watched them as they were uploaded, and then I watched them through again, and then I screen recorded them the third time. And then I edited it into one video in time of occurrence.” They both stare at her, and this time she doesn’t blush, no shame in her voice as she says, “What? They’re adorable. I want these memories of my friends that I can still laugh at when I’m thirty and have four cats.”

Alex snorts, and Justin smiles again, softer this time. “We should all take some together,” Justin suggests, and the girls are standing and pulling them with them in an instant. 

They find Clay and Tony, neither in any form of costume, and Alex immediately makes the rule that they get no photos. They take ones for them, though—well, Tony does—as a group and then in pairs. They get a couple of the four of them first, Alex and Justin placed in the middle and Hannah and Jessica on the outside. Hannah’s arm is around Alex’s waist and Justin’s over his shoulder and his smile comes easy. They take one with smiles, first, and then one pulling faces. Then he takes one with Hannah while Justin takes one with Jess, Clay accepting Justin’s phone with surprisingly little reluctance. 

Then they switch, Alex grinning next to Jessica and Hannah laughing at Justin and Alex is pretty sure Clay almost throws his phone at him. He resists, though, and passes it over to Tony in favour of Hannah’s when Justin returns to Alex’s side instead. 

He settles against Alex easily, arm sliding over his shoulders without a thought. Alex stares over at him as he smiles, and doesn’t even notice Tony taking the first picture. Justin looks over at him then, catches his gaze, and his smile widens, softens. Alex smiles back and the flash goes off again. He drags his gaze away and directs his smile at his phone, knows Justin does the same. After this one, Justin pulls away with a, “Wait.” 

Alex watches him shrug out of the jacket and pride bubbles in his chest. Jessica wolf whistles, and Justin flashes her a smile and an eye roll before returning to Alex. Alex tucks his arm over Justin’s shoulders first this time, and Justin accepts it without pause, leaning into his side. They direct another smile at Tony. Then they pull faces. Then Justin sticks his tongue out and Alex raises his middle finger and they decide that’s enough content. 

Alex flicks through the photos, pausing on the one where he’s looking at Justin. He doesn’t recognize the look on his own face, but Justin’s smile is bright and undeniably real. Alex feels something else bubble in his chest and swipes over to the next one, where they’re smiling at each other. He adds every other photo to his story and decides to keep these for himself. 

He captions the one with Jessica, ‘“I was ready for us to be matching, Alex!”’ Then he adds a couple of flame emojis to the first one after Justin takes his jacket off. He sees Justin’s uploads and smiles before he even begins to tap through them. He’s captioned half of them, sweeter than Alex’s. The one with Jessica is a ridiculous pose and simply captioned, ‘Nurse Davis’. They’re both laughing in Hannah’s, and it’s captioned, ‘When the pirate is the treasure’. Alex grins at it for a second before moving to the next one, and he stares. 

Justin has not shared Alex’s selfishness, but uploaded the photo where they’re smiling at each other. He’s used the black and white filter, and simply added a single black heart. Alex stares at it for a moment longer, knowing the smile on his face softens ridiculously and unable to do anything about it. The last one, where Alex is flipping off the camera, is captioned, ‘Prince Charming’. The sarcasm isn’t lost on Alex, but even as he’s rolling his eyes something warm seeps through his veins. He stares at the photo for a moment longer, at the clear happiness on Justin’s face, and then he shoves his phone in his pocket. 

He looks up directly into Justin’s eyes, who’s already smiling over at him from where he stands next to Jessica. He tilts his head at Alex questioningly, but the smile that graces Alex’s lips is easy. He’s absolutely fine—there’s no need to worry. Justin looks as if he’s about to return to him, but Jessica wraps a hand around his forearm. Alex hears her ask, “Come help me get drinks?” Justin instantly nods acceptance and then second guesses himself, glancing back at Alex. Alex waves a dismissive hand and Justin lets Jessica pull him out. 

Hannah’s deep in conversation with Clay and Tony has disappeared. Alex doesn’t really feel like being a third wheel, so he heads out of the dining room where they’d grouped together and makes his way out the back. There’s even more people milling about out here, but there’s much more space for them to spread out. Alex looks around for Zach or some of the others, but he doesn’t really care if he finds them. He just needs a moment to breathe. 

He realises he’s not even going to get that luxury when a voice comes from behind him. “Let off your leash?”

Alex closes his eyes without turning around and bites back the sigh threatening to escape. “Fuck off Montgomery.”

“You’re less of a pussy than I thought. Brave enough to let him out of your sight.”

“You think he’ll cheat on me?” Alex asks dryly, turning around just to show Monty the bored look on his face. He’s dressed, rather appropriately in Alex’s opinion, as the devil. 

“You’re the only fag here. Justin’s only putting up with you because he has to. He’ll be off your hands soon.”

Alex tilts his head. “What makes you think that?”

Monty laughs, and it’s an ugly sound. It’s harsh and holds nothing of what a laugh should be. “You really think he’d choose you over Bryce?” He takes a step closer. “You’re fucking nothing. You think he won’t get over whatever fucking phase this is? Like he actually gives a shit about you?”

“Yeah, I do think he’d choose me. Right now I’m pretty fucking sure.” There’s an ugly, nagging voice in Alex’s head saying he isn’t. That he doesn’t know, not really. He hasn’t really stopped to think how much Justin actually cares about him—it hasn’t been important. It would be asking for something in return. He’s been so busy just caring about Justin that it hasn’t even crossed his mind. 

“You’re fucking delusional,” Monty scoffs. “I know. We’re alike.”

This time Alex takes a step closer, voice growing low and venomous. “Justin is nothing like you.”

Monty smiles, vicious. “I was talking about you, Standall.” Alex’s brow furrows. “I need Bryce the same way you need Justin. I remember how obsessed you were when you first got here. Desperate. You got lucky. But you really think he actually likes you? He’s using you until he doesn’t need you anymore. It’s what they do. But you’ll always need him, won’t you? What the fuck are you, Alex, without Justin Foley at your side? You’re using him, too, just like I use Bryce. The only difference is I’m not pathetic enough to think Bryce gives a fuck about anyone.”

“Fuck you Montgomery,” Alex spits. “Justin isn’t Bryce. And I’m not you. If you know he doesn’t care about you why are you still his fucking disciple? You’re the only one that’s fucking scared and I’m the pathetic one?” Monty only rolls his eyes. Alex rolls his right back, rage curling hotly in his stomach. “Grow up Monty.”

Alex pushes past him and Monty turns around and calls after him. “Good luck finding your owner.” Alex flips him off over his shoulder. 

He feels sick as he makes his way back through the house, something clawing, churning, collapsing in his stomach. He pushes through the throngs until he gets to the kitchen, but Justin isn’t here and neither is Jessica. He was outside too long. There are, however, numerous bottles of vodka sitting on the table. Alex dumps some Coke into a cup and then fills it up. He downs it in a few slow, burning gulps before refilling it. He screws his face up after the fourth cup and grabs a bottle of beer instead before pushing back out of the room. 

He bumps into Zach somewhere in the hall—literally, stumbling into his back after someone elbows him on the way past. Zach turns around and immediately grins, reaching out to steady him with a cheerful, “Hey, man. I was starting to think you’d left. You wanna be my beer pong partner?”

Alex considers it. “Have you seen Justin?”

“A while ago with Jess, looked like he was having fun. So? You in?”

“Fuck yes,” Alex sighs, because honestly, what else is he going to do? 

Alex is shockingly good at beer pong, and Zach is aware of this; it’s why he chose him. Their opponents, however—members of the basketball team, Alex thinks—are equally talented. None of their skills, including Alex’s, are in any way diminished by the alcohol in their systems. If anything, they’re heightened. It gives Alex a chance to show off and an excuse to drink more. He downs every cup as quickly as he can and if Zach thinks it’s weird, he doesn’t mention it. 

There’s still vague thrums of pain lancing through his stomach, but the alcohol waters it down. Still, he presses his hand against it as if he can push the ache away as he follows Zach back towards the living room. 

Jessica and Hannah are there, this time, dancing together near the edge of the crowd. Hannah sees them first and smiles, wide and bright, as she waves. “Alex,” she shouts, latching onto his arm once he’s close enough. “Are you drunk enough to dance with us?”

“No,” Alex says plainly, though he can feel the smile on his face. He doesn’t really know why it’s there. He’s starting to panic a little, on the inside. Justin was supposed to be with Jessica. Alex can’t see Justin. 

Hannah only waves him off and tries again. “Dempsey! You’ll dance with us, won’t you?”

Zach looks like he’s been handed the world. “Fuck yes,” he breathes, letting her pull him in instantly. 

Alex ignores them in favour of turning to Jessica. “Where’s Justin?”

“He went to go find you ages ago,” Jessica frowns. “I thought you were together. Have you not seen him?”

The panic grows, but the smile barely flickers. Alex shakes his head slowly. “I’m sure he just got distracted with ten potential hookups.” Lie. “I’m just gonna go look for him.”

Jessica only nods with a squeeze to his shoulder before going right back to dancing. Alex’s stomach thrums. The smile slips slowly off his face as he makes his way through the house. He checks bathrooms and bedrooms and the kitchen and then the dining room. Maybe Justin gave up looking for him and just came back here to wait. 

His jacket is still there. Justin isn’t. 

Alex takes the jacket in slightly shaky hands and makes his way outside. Maybe Justin had the same idea as him—fresh air. He bumps into Scott instead on the way, who apologises instantly and then realises it’s Alex. “Oh, hey, I was looking for you.”

“Have you seen Justin?”

Scott already looked more serious than usual, but he frowns deep now, flicking a glance over his shoulder before turning back to Alex. “You haven’t?” Alex shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s going on, man, but I heard Bryce talking about him earlier. I wasn’t close enough to really get what he was saying but I heard him call him a pussy and talk about reminding him where his place is, or something. It’s just Bryce can be kind of dick when he’s drunk. Like. Violent. And he’s not here anymore.”

“It’s not just when he’s drunk,” Alex mutters. Then he freezes. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

“At the party. I haven’t seen him in like an hour.”

_Fuck_ , Alex thinks. “Scott. Who was he talking to?” Scott just furrows his brows at him. Alex groans. “Bryce. About Justin. Who was he talking to?” 

“Oh. Montgomery.”

This time, Alex is sure his stomach caves in. This time he curses out loud. “Fuck. _Fuck_. I gotta go. Thanks, Scott.”

Scott seems concerned, but he only nods. It doesn’t matter. Alex is already walking away. 

He finds the others again and grabs onto Hannah first, hands clutching her shoulders. Hannah whips around to look at him, concerned, raising her hands to touch his elbows lightly. Her gaze is questioning, but Alex doesn’t have an answer. He can’t say anything, for a moment, can’t think. He’s trying to think but he can’t figure it out, can’t understand, doesn’t know what’s happening or what he’s supposed to do. All he knows is that Justin’s gone and so is Bryce and Alex is scared and he needs him back. He needs him right here right now.

This is the only thing he knows, so this is the only thing he says. 

“I need Justin.”

Hannah cocks her head. “Okay. Do you want me to help you look for him?”

Alex nods rapidly. “He’s not here.” He should explain more, he thinks, elaborate a little. He knows this, somewhere, but his brain or his body or his mouth doesn’t want to cooperate. He blames it on the alcohol slugging through his veins; fogging up his mind, clogging his throat, slowing his lips. It heightens his frustration but dulls it, still, just like the panic and the pain in his stomach. It’s there, yes, and vivid, somehow, but _distant_. Alex would be grateful, but he needs a clear head right now and he doesn’t have it. The frustration flares again momentarily instead and then fades. 

In some part of him, the part that’s still functioning normally, his stomach is on fire. He’s hyperventilating. He can’t move, can’t breathe enough to make any sound, but he’s clawing his way out, screaming. His alcohol slowed brain pushes it down, asks what exactly it is he has to worry about, tells him everything is fine and he’s overreacting and this is too much work. It is, though, sadly, finally, giving way to the panic. 

Now his stomach _is_ on fire, and his breathing is picking up speed like it’s trying to win a race. “He’s not here,” he repeats, the fear slipping into his voice as he grips Hannah’s shoulders tighter. “He’s gone and I don’t know where he is and I was supposed to stay with him and I need to find him because he left the fucking jacket and what if he gets hypothermia, Hannah?”

Hannah’s look is more pitying than anything, and she rubs his arm soothingly. “I’m sure he won’t, Lex. Maybe he just went home?”

“You’re our ride. Why would he go home without me?”

Hannah seems amused. “I meant to his parents, Alex,” she explains softly. 

Alex shakes his head viciously as his stomach flips. He doesn’t even have a response to that, can’t explain why that’s wrong, all wrong, without giving everything up. He thinks a ‘no’ slips out, maybe, but that’s it. He changes topic instead. “Maybe he did go home. Can you take me home, Hannah?”

She looks concerned again now, but Alex doesn’t mind. That means she doesn’t argue with him, doesn’t question. She just nods and tells him he can go ahead to the car while she gets Jessica. 

Alex doesn’t feel any more settled when he’s in the car, parked a little ways down the street. He has the entire back to himself, which is much more stressful than comfortable this time. Justin should be here, next to him. They should still be at the party, together. They should be going home _together_. 

Alex entertains the possibility that Justin’s already there, or headed that way. Maybe he just got overwhelmed and didn’t want to say anything and went back on his own. It would be stupid and irrational and so, not that surprising. 

Still. It’s doubtful. 

He doesn’t move when the girls get in, even to acknowledge Jessica’s concerned glance. He stares blankly out the window and stays silent the whole way home. When he gets there, though, he leans forward and wraps his arms around the driver’s seat, just managing to encircle Hannah’s shoulders. “Thanks Hannah,” he says quietly. “I’m really sorry for making you guys leave.”

Hannah pats his hands. “Don’t worry about it Lex. We’re gonna have a sleepover with Netflix. Keep me updated, okay? You can call us anytime.” Jessica reaches over to squeeze his arm, confirming her inclusion in that promise. Alex gives them one last grateful smile before getting out and running up the drive. 

He checks the whole house, but it becomes obvious very quickly. Justin isn’t here. No one is. He fetches his jacket from where he dropped it in the hall and clutches it tightly in his hands, then hurls it away from him with a shouted, “Fuck!” It comes out hoarse—his throat is dry enough to be irritating. Not so much as the worry, though. 

Pain spikes through his stomach, and he presses a hand to it with a groan. He allows himself to slide down the wall until he can cradle his head in his hands, stomach continuing to throb. He whispers another, “Fuck,” before allowing himself to cry. 

He’ll blame it on the alcohol.


End file.
